Fairest in the Universe
by The Cheshire Cheese
Summary: AU, Mirror Universe: Rebel Captain Janeway and her crew fight to escape the Alpha Quadrant, and start a new empire in the Delta Quadrant. Once there, they must fight a powerful Ocompan empress, who sucks youth from other species to prolong her short lifespan. Hope comes from a rogue hologram scientist, whose experiment—a severed Borg drone—may become their secret weapon.
1. The Gift

**A/N: This is an alternate version of "Voyager's" mirror universe. A few "Star Trek" novels have dealt with the Mirror Universe, and included "Voyager" characters. However, the one story I read which centered on the Voyager crew, I wasn't happy with. So I'm writing my own version. **

**In this version, all the characters will have evil traits, and sympathetic ones. There will be lots of fighting, and lots of romance (both hetero and homosexual). This story will include all ten regulars, most of the recurring characters, and a few from other series. Expect to see at least a little bit of every romantic pairing possible.**

**I already have another unfinished "Voyager" story, which I'll be prioritizing over this one. Updates on this may be few and far between. But, it's not as if the series is going anywhere. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Gift**

The Overseer Kira Nerys ruled the space station of Terok Nor with an iron fist. Ever since the Klingon, Cardassian, and Bajoran alliance had overthrown the Terran Empire, the Terrans—or Humans—had been their slaves, along with the Vulcans. Terok Nor flourished, thanks to this slave labor. Kira leaned back on her couch, covered in fine gems, wearing her foil crown and elegant earrings, attended by several attractive Terrans and Vulcans. Her Cardassian henchmen, Garrak, timidly entered the room.

"What is it Garrak." Kira asked, opening her mouth to let a Vulcan man feed her some fruit.

"The Gul's daughter, who you summoned...she's here."

"Ah, Seska! Show her in."

A sultry Cardassian noblewoman strode past Garak, into the room. Brown locks fell around her shoulders, and she greeted the Overseer with piercing eyes. Kira immediately began fantasizing (not for the first time) about how she might get this Cardassian princess into her bed. The first step would be to flatter and please.

"Seska, darling!" Kira sat up. "It's so good to see you again! You know, I'm still very grateful for what you did last month, putting down that rebellion here on Terok Nor."

"Oh stop it, Nerys!" Seska smiled. "All I did was fire a few shots into a crowd."

"You called that a 'few shots'? I'd hate to see what your trigger finger looks like!" The Overseer rose from her couch. "I want to thank you for your heroism, Seska. I'll be giving you a consort of your choice—well, excepting a few I'm not willing to give away." She glanced at the young Vulcan man, holding the fruit bowl. "Vorrik is off-limits I'm afraid."

"He's not my type anyway. I'd want something more…" Seska's eyes shifted thoughtfully. "Exciting."

Kira laughed. "Maybe some of the manual workers will be more up your alley. Wanna take a look?"

Seska lifted her purple skirts, and stepped aside, to let Kira lead the way.

Kira led her through the bowels of the station, past an assortment of well-built males, Terran and Vulcan. Seska saw many that struck her fancy, but none that really stuck out. They were all so obedient and courteous, so fearful of the Overseer. How boring.

"…and William here, if you like facial hair," Kira chattered on. "We caught him fighting with that rebel Picard, who I've still yet to take care of, but I'll have the Enterprise out of the way in no time—"

A masculine scream interrupted Kira. Both women turned towards a hallway, where it had come from.

"D'Oh!" Kira shook her head. "We've got someone in the Agony Booth at the moment. Sorry about the noise,"

Seska narrowed her eyes curiously, and strode down the hall. Kira hurried after her.

"What, you want to watch?" Kira laughed. "I'm impressed! I didn't know you were into that sort of thing…"

They entered the room, and found the Klingon Worf at the controls of the booth. A Terran slave stood—or rather half-stood, half-hung—inside, chained to the wall by his wrists. He was tall, dark-skinned, and well-built. Black banks hung over his face, which was unshaven, with a thin mustache. A blue tribal design was visible over one eye, beneath the sweat-drenched bangs.

"What's that on his forehead?" Seska asked, moving around for a better look.

"A tattoo," Kira scoffed. "He did it to himself, _without_ my permission. That's the reason he's in here."

The Terran stared at Seska and Kira, panting heavily. Worf looked at them, holding off his work, until Kira gave him a nod to continue. The slave screamed again, making Seska wince.

"You know," Seska said playfully, "He looks good in chains. But the suffering part, that I'd change."

Kira looked between the slave and Seska. "Don't tell me you want _him_!"

Another scream.

"Kira, _please_."

"Oh all right. Worf," Kira jerked her head, motioning for him to stop.

Seska pushed the door of the booth opened and stepped in, close to the panting human. She put her hand on his cheek, tilting his face up. "What's your name?" she asked gently.

He stared at her, with eyes so dark brown she couldn't tell where the irises stopped and the pupils began. Beautiful eyes.

He spit in her face.

Seska calmly wiped the saliva off her cheek, chuckling. "Yes, oh yes. I want him Nerys." She turned around to face her friend. "Come on, it's not like you were doing anything with him. Were you?"

Kira looked like the idea was too amusing to pass up. "All right, you can have him. Take him down."

The Klingon reluctantly turned off the machine. Two Bajoran guards unchained the Terran, and dragged him out of the booth. He was too weak to fight them.

"Take him to Seska's ship." Kira ordered. "Make sure someone's watching him! Keep him locked up!" she turned back to Seska. "You just be careful with this one Seska. He's not just disobedient, he's sneaky."

Seska smiled with anticipation. "You're too kind, Overseer."


	2. Introductions

**A/N: Apologies for a slow and awkward chapter. I plan for the action to pick way up, and the awkward-ness to go down a bit. **

**This chapter needed to be edited and updated; it took a while, as my internet is down. (I'm typing this from a Starbuck's at the moment.) Apologies. **

* * *

Chakotay spent the next two or three days drifting in and out of consciousness, as his body and mind recovered from the effects of Kira's agony booth. He was vaguely aware of the Cardassian woman who was continuously scanning him, feeding him, and healing injuries—even ones weeks or months old—with a dermal regenerator. He felt he was supposed to be furious with her for some reason, but couldn't quite recall why. She'd said or did something, that implied something, that enraged him. Or maybe that was just a dream. She comforted him when he groaned in pain, or woke babbling from some fever dream; the sympathetic touches turned into caresses and kisses, and it wasn't long at all before she was in the bed with him. He enjoyed it so much that it took until he was fully recovered from the booth for it to dawn to him that he was her new toy. And then he remembered why he hated her.

He was standing by the window now, taking in his surroundings. A Cardassian cityscape greeted him below, the sun shining brightly. Seeing the patches of trees among the buildings and the blue sky made him more homesick than he'd been in years. He turned attention to his reflection in the window. He was still in dire need of a shave, but the grime and such had been cleaned off him, probably with a sonic fan while he was asleep. (He had a feeling if he'd taken a sonic shower or a bath, that Cardassian woman would've joined him, and he'd remember it.) His slave rags had been traded for clean change of black clothes (with a low reaching V-neck, he noticed).

He wondered how hard it would be to break this window.

He glanced back at his new "owner," still asleep on her side of the bed, as if she were his wife. As gently as he could, he gave the window a rap with his knuckles. It echoed more loudly than he'd expected, startling him. The woman groaned, and blinked awake.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked.

He couldn't tell if she was taunting him, or being sincere, so he said nothing.

She slid out of bed and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest. "There's a shaving kit in the bathroom, if you like. You should keep the mustache."

He smiled. "You like it."

"Mmm." She rested her head on his shoulder. "You still haven't told me your name."

Playing along, he gently took her hand. "You haven't told me yours either."

"Seska Ctel."

There was a small plant on the window, held in a glass pot. That should do the trick.

Pretending to gaze out the window, he replied, "Chakotay."

"Don't you humans normally have last names?"

"Normally. Not always," he said, holding a leaf of the plant, as if he were just looking curiously at it.

He grabbed Seska's wrists and whirled around, making her cry out, and trapped her between his back and the window. Holding her wrist with one hand, he grabbed the plant wit the other and smashed it against the windowsill. Then he pulled Seska around until he was holding her in a hostage position, and pressed a shard of the broken pot against her throat. She stood perfectly still, making no effort to fight him.

"I was taught never to kill in cold blood." Even as he said it, he could feel his blood starting to rush, and his eye beginning to twitch. "I can't tell you _how_ much easier it'd for me if I just jammed this into your throat right now, and figured out the rest for myself..." he worked to keep his hand still, had to fight to keep control. "But that's not who I am. So since I'm sparing your life right now," he pressed the glass a little harder, "The least you can do is tell me how to get out of this building."

"Ch-Chakotay…" she seized the wrist that held the glass, squeezed and twisted, with a force that shocked him.

She smacked _him_ against the window, hard. In the second that he stood there stunned, she twisted the shard of glass out of his hand and drove it into his stomach.

"You've never fought a Cargassian woman before have you," she said staring down, as he sank to the floor. "Don't worry, that shouldn't be fatal. I don't think." She turned away and began searching for the dermal regenerator.

And that was how their first conversation went.

* * *

B'Elanna, daughter of Miral, lacked honor.

Her mother was a wealthy Klingon woman, who ruled a small city on Qo'noS. Of course she didn't live with her mother now; B'Elanna had a house of her own, overlooking the river, and a job as the supervisor of an engineering plant. She'd had her accomplishments in life; she'd fought in several battles, and was renowned for her engineering skills. When people complimented her on them, she usually just played along, not caring for the patronizing sympathy she'd get when she told them how she really felt about herself.

B'Elanna lacked honor, in part, because of her mother.

Miral, like many nobles in the Alliance, had human consorts. But she did what only a few Klingons, Bajorans or Cardassiasn ever dared do; became so attached to one consort that she set him free—and _married_ him. That, in some ways, was a relief. If she had to be the daughter of a weak Terran, at least he was one of the more respected, freed ones. But the way her parents would prance around arm-in-arm in public, acting pathetically sentimental, reminding everyone that B'Elanna lacked Klingon blood, that enraged her. She vowed she would never do that with one of _her_ human play-things.

"My lady,"

"What!"

The Klingon servant who'd addressed her wasn't startled by her temper; he was used to it. "Lady Seska has arrived."

B'Elanna nodded.

Seska stepped into the garden, smiling. "B'Elanna! Long time no see, long time no see!"

B'Elanna gave her best friend the first real smile she'd had in days. "Hello Seska. I heard about that rebellion you put down on Terok Nor."

"Oh? What did you hear?"

The two friends chatted, strolling through the garden. Seska told her a long, enthusiastic story about how a group of Terran and Vulcans had risen up on Kira's space station, and how she'd taken matters into her own hands.

"Oh, but enough about me!" Seska rolled her eyes, throwing a hand up. "How've you been, dear? Looks like you got a haircut!"

"Just around the front."

B'Elanna's black-brown hair still flowed to her waist, like always, but around her face it was cut into a choppy, layered style. She hoped it made her look more…Klingon. She was dressed in her casual black armor, as usual, with the bared midriff (it was hot on Qo'noS). She wore her three-bladed dagger on her belt, though more for decoration than anything else.

The friends chattered on some more, before going inside for lunch.

"I have a new toy." Seska said, as they ascended a spiraled staircase.

"What's his name?" B'Elanna scoffed.

"Chakotay." Seska replied. "He doesn't have a last name." They reached the top of the stairs, and turned down a hallway. "Kira gave him to me after the Terok Nor incident. He worked there for six years. Before that, he lived on some class-M planet, I forget which, one of those tribes of human slaves who worked the land for us. I guess those slaves had a bit more wiggle-room than most. They were allowed to hold their own ceremonies and weddings, tattoo themselves without their masters' permission,"

"You _talk_ to your _play thing_?!" B'Elanna interrupted, sounding almost disgusted.

Sesksa shrugged, as they entered a long dining room. "Why not? It's so interes….interesting…"

Seska's voice trailed off as she stared at two Terran slaves—B'Elanna's consorts—who were lying on a couch. They were feeling up each other's bodies while sharing in a passionate kiss. And they were both male. The smaller one, a man with long black bangs over his face and almond-shaped eyes, took notice of Seska, and quickly broke off the kiss. The other man, lean and sandy-haired, looked embarrassed.

B'Elanna barely seemed to notice, and made a gesture towards them. "As you were."

The smaller consort, who Seska knew was named Harry, looked bashful. But the other one was more than happy to obey B'Elanna, and pulled his lover back into a kiss.

"Is he new?" Seska asked, gesturing towards the sandy-haired man.

"More or less." B'Elanna said. "I got him about a week ago."

"Hmm. You should keep him. He's got enthusiasm."

The two women ate lunch at a table on a balcony, outside the tall dining room window. They decided to discuss work over a lunch of Cardassian and Klingon dishes.

"….Lewis Zimmerman," B'Elanna said, looking over the report on her bad. "A free Terran scientist who used to work with me now and then. He was particularly interested in holo-technology."

"Mmm," Seska popped a gagh (or Klingon worm) in her mouth . "I heard he got into some kind of trouble."

"That's the understatement of the century. Turns out, Zimmerman was giving technology to the Terran Rebellion! He disappeared before anyone could make an arrest. Every once in a while some bounty hunters or patrol ships will think they've finally found him, but it will turn out to be one of his holograms. See, he programmed a ton of holograms that look and sound exactly like himself, and he's using them as decoys. Not just decoys, but we're afraid they might actually be helping the rebels. He's littered _himself_ all across the quadrant!"

Seska's eyes widened, as she chewed her food. "That's…impressive!"

B'Elanna snorted. "I guess that's one way to put it. I'd just call it being a pain in the ass." She leaned over the table, looking her friend in the eye. "Seska, do you know how high the price on Zimmerman's head is? Well, suffice to say, the one who finds him will be granted a lot more than just a new concubine."

"Thinking about taking up bounty hunting?" Seska asked coyly.

B'Elanna smiled, revealing her filed, sharp teeth. "If I did, would you join me? It can be a girl's night out."

Seska smiled slowly. "I don't know how it is on Qo'noS, but back on Cardassia, there are so many pigs who think our kind has no business doing anything outside of the kitchen. I'd love to see the look on my brother's face, when our victory is being talked about all over Cardassia!"

B'Elanna chuckled with excitement.

"Of course," Seska shrugged, "I'll bet you're not doing it for any reward. You're doing it for honor. If you can bring in one of the most wanted Terrans in the galaxy, then maybe you can forgive yourself for having their blood in your veins."

B'Elanna stared hard at Seska.

"Oh," Seska smacked B'Elanna's arm playfully. "I'm not trying to be cruel! Come on. Who but your best friend would tell you what a pathetic, insecure little twit you are?"

B'Elanna looked away, and finally started to smile. "Who but your best friend would tell you what a twisted, masochistic nymphomaniac you are!"

Seska threw her head back with laughter. "That's the spirit!" she leaned forward. "So! What's your plan, for finding this Dr. Zimmerman?"

* * *

"That was Seska Ctel. She and B'Elanna have been friends since childhood." Harry took a swig from the cup of firewine that he and Tom were sharing.

"Ah," Tom nodded. "She seemed a little…surprised when she walked in on us. Do the Cardassians have stricter rules for that sort of thing than the Klingons do?"

"I think most everyone does, Tom." Harry leaned back on the couch. "And, I could be wrong, but I suspect the Cardassians frown on same-sex relationships. I don't know that for a fact but…"

Tom nodded slowly. "That would explain this one Cardassian, who worked on Terek Nor. He was so obviously effeminate, and eyed _me_ up all the time—it was hilarious—and he made all this effort to hide it and talk about all the women he'd slept with." Tom shook his head.

"Shht!" Harry sat up, listening intently to the conversation on the balcony outside. "I think they're planning a trip."

Tom shifted his eyes, unsure what Harry was getting at. "So…we'll have the house all to ourselves?"

Harry looked Tom in the eye, and whispered, "It'll be a chance to escape!"

Tom was taken aback. "Esc—"

Harry's eyes widened warningly.

Tom lowered his voice into a whisper. "Escape? To where?"

"Turkana IV!"

Tom stared at Harry like he was crazy. "That crime hot-spot, that's got something like a hundred murders a day? No law, no order?"

"Exactly!" Harry was almost bouncing with excitement. "We can be free! It'll be dangerous, but we'll be our own men! Look Tom, I grew up on that colony. After my parents died I lived on the streets until I was captured and sold to B'Elanna. I can find my way around there, and I can teach you how, too. We'll live our own lives, have adventures together, seduce beautiful women and men…What do you say?"

Tom still stared, wide-eye. "I think I prefer living in the luxury suite and having sex with a gorgeous Klingon woman every other night."

"Tom, we're her play things!"

"Harry," Tom stood up from the couch, and began to pace. "Maybe my perspective is just a little bit different than yours. But until about a week ago, I'd spent my entire life slaving away in the mines on Terek Nor. It was every man for himself, and I don't want to go back to living like that. That life's not just hard on your body Harry, it's hard on your soul. If we were living in a place like that, or Turkana IV, it wouldn't be long before one of us was choosing between saving the other or saving himself."

Harry stared up at Tom. "How _did_ you get transferred from Terek Nor to this place?"

Tom looked away, smiling bitterly, and gave a wide-armed shrugged. "I tattled. I ratted out someone I thought I cared about. And I didn't feel bad about it. Still don't!" Tom flopped back down on the couch, and put his feet up on the coffee table. "It was worth it. I warned him, over and over, that he was being an idiot, and I wouldn't stick my neck out for him. He just wouldn't listen."

"What'd he do?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well you remember that gay Cardassian I was telling you about? Garak was his name. Well my…friend snuck into Garak's salon one night and stole some tattooing equipment. He gave himself this, I don't know, Indian thing over his eye." Tom gestured with his hand. "He was always talking about doing it. Apparently his old man had one back home, where the Klingon slave masters were a bit more lenient. For a while no one actually noticed he had the tattoo, since we were all so covered it grime and rarely looked the Cardassiasn or Bajorans in the eye anyway. But after a few days Garak noticed that someone had been in his shop, and asked all of us who it was. I didn't exactly run to tell on the guy, but I didn't bother with lying for him either. As a reward, I got promoted to boy-toy and auctioned off. And by 'auctioned off,' I mean, B'Elanna stabbed her competitor in the side with a dagger when the other woman offered a higher bid." Tom smiled proudly. "Guess I'm popular."

* * *

"B'Elanna," Seska asked casually, as they finished up dessert. "Are your men ever…sneaky?"

B'Elanna looked up at her friend, almost wearily. "Harry was a burglar on Turkana IV before he was caught. I've had to practically triple my security around here. He tried slithering out through the fireplace once!"

"Really!" Seska sounded impressed. "You should meet my Chakotay. I think you'd like him."

"Yeah?" B'Elanna took a swig from her goblet of bloodwine.

"Oh yes. You know he's tried to kill me about three times in the last week. He's the most exciting man I've ever met."

"Exiting," B'Elanna set down her cup. "When I want 'exciting,' I look for a battlefield, not a friendly argument with my toys. Hey, you're coming to the Day of Honor festival this week?"

"But of course!"

"Bring Chocolate-Day, or whatever his name is." B'Elanna shrugged. "He can meet Tom and Harry."

"Chakotay," Seska laughed, a little awkwardly. She looked like she wasn't sure how she felt about Chakotay meeting Tom and Harry. "Well if you like him, maybe we can do a little trade. I wouln't mind having a go at your Harry Kim."

B'Elanna laughed into her flask. "You're disgusting."

* * *

**A/N: **

**I'm unsure if the way B'Elanna and Seska speak in this chapter really sounds "Klingon" or "Cardassian." If I think of something better I may change it. But for now I'm leaving it. **

**I also apologize for the ridiculous, far-fetched coincidences in this story. In my defense though, things like that are downright epidemic in the *real* Mirror Universe episodes and stories, and even pop up quite a bit on the rest of the show. (And not just "Voyager." My parents, fans of the Original Series, often laugh about the absurd coincidences and far-fetched plot twists.) **

**Also, if you're getting bored with the sex-slave subplot, don't worry, I plant to "close the book" on it as soon as I can. I'm starting to really weird myself out here. And I'm starting to feel bad for torturing poor Chakotay so much. :( **

**Also, special thanks to the website Memory Alpha (the Star Trek wikipedia, basiccally), and "The Voyager Companion" by Paul Ruditis (2003), which I refer to regularly when writing Trek fan fiction. **


	3. Invitations

**A/N: This chapter has a villainous character saying some nasty things about homosexuals, and using the word 'queer' in a negative context. I hope not to offend anyone. Know that I'm quite for gay rights IRL (got a bisexual family member).**

* * *

"The Day of Honor festival is tomorrow night." Seska said, brushing her hair. "I'd love it if you came with me."

Chakotay, reclined on the bed, didn't look up from his PADD.

"I'd never force you to do anything you don't want to, of course."

Chakotay snorted. "Except stay here with you."

Relatively speaking, Seska was a kind owner. Seska was more like the slave holders he'd lived under as a boy. His tribe had been given so much freedom, he often didn't even feel like a slave. Seska spoiled him rotten, giving him whatever food or reading material he wanted, and permitting him to take walks through her garden (which was heavily guarded—not just to keep slaves in, but assassins out). She'd even invited him on a few dates into the city, and his curiosity almost made him consider it; but his pride always punched it down.

"Stadi's going, aren't you Stadi?"

The Betazoid maid was tidying up the room. The Betazoids were a free race, but Stadi was something of an indentured servant, someone to whom Chakotay could relate. Stadi was one of the few friends he'd made here.

"Pfft," The Betazoid shrugged, shelving some blankets. "I'm only going for the drinks and the cock fighting."

Chakotay's eyes left his PADD, but his voice stayed flat. "There's going to be cock fighting?"

Stadi might have brought this up on purpose, he realized. It was rumored that her people could sense others minds, or at least emotions.

"They're Klingons." Stadi laughed. "Of course there'll be fighting! I never do it myself, but my empathetic nature makes me a good referee."

He saw Seska smile to herself. The idea of watching him beat up another slave in a crude fighting ring excited her.

He did have a lot of adrenaline he needed to get out. _Needed_ to get out.

* * *

"Cock fighting." Harry Kim's eyes were wide with excitement.

"You thinking of getting into the ring?" Tom looked at Harry dubiously.

"Of course not. But someone who _is_ can help us get out of here!"

Tom made that rolling-his-eyes-to-the-ceiling expression that he loved so much. "Harry! When are you gonna give this up?"

"When we're free." Harry leapt off the couch. "Those big fighter guys and girls, they wanna be free! We probably won't even have to bribe any of them, we'll just have to offer our skills! I can get doors and windows opened. One of them can take out the guards…"

"While the other guards shoot us." Tom swung his legs onto the table. "I'm starting to have second thoughts about going to this festival."

"I don't think B'Elanna's giving us much choice."

"I'm starting to have second thoughts about being sober for this festival."

"That's the spirit!"

Tom leaned back on the couch. "Cock fighting…I did that now and then, on Terok Nor . I jumped in the ring whenever I had a really bad day. Of course I always wound up getting beaten to a bloody pulp, but it got the adrenaline out."

"Anyone ever feel bad for beating you up?"

Tom shrugged. "A few, maybe. One guy especially."

* * *

Tom met Chakotay in the ring, on Terok Nor.

Every now and again, on their off time, the slaves would gather in the corridors of the space station and take turns fighting each other with their bare hands, often betting food rations. Everyone would just gather in a crowded circle, while two men or women fought each other in the middle, stripped from the waist up if male. (Usually both fighters were the same sex, but not always.) Someone would agree to be referee, count to three, and the match would start until the referee declared one party no longer fit to defend him or herself.

Tom wasn't a big guy, but what he lacked in size he made up for in adrenaline. His style was a clumsy medley of human and Vulcan martial arts that he'd observed others using while growing up, and he usually lost. Tom knew he was going to lose this match as soon as he finished peeling off his shirt and turned around to see his opponent. The other man eyed Tom with an amused, nodding grin, as he finished tying his fighting bandages onto his hands. He was a puncher, Tom could tell. Tom debated whether to use this as an opportunity to practice his dodging skills, or to just let the guy knock him out and get it over with.

As they circled each other, the other guy offered in a surprisingly soft voice, "You want me to just go fifty per-cent? I don't wanna break anything."

The comment, which Tom took as an insult (but looking back, probably wasn't), made him feel like he'd already been hit. "I can take a punch Amigo!"

The other guy cocked his head. "_Amigo_?"

"You're Spanish or something, aren't you?" Tom made a gesture around his face, and mumbled stupidly, "…m…mustache?"

"I'm from Syrana IV," the guy said, taking a swing at Tom.

Tom impressed himself by dodging it. "Ah I get it! I'm fighting an Injun brave then?"

He instantly regretted the comment, when he saw the other guy's expression go from a narrow eyed glare to a thrilled grin.

"Where 'you from, White Man?" he asked jokingly.

Tom opened his mouth, unsure how to respond. While he circled the guy, gaping stupidly, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation around, the other guy punched him in the jaw, sending him straight to the ground. Tom's vision was blurry, but he instantly leapt back up and started swinging back. Tom dodged the next few swings, and got the guy right next to the eye with some kind of martial arts chop that he didn't know the name of. The other guy was actually stunned for a moment, then shook his head doglike, and got back to work.

It ended like most of Tom's fights, with Tom backed against the wall, being pummeled from what felt like every direction. While the other slaves cheered on, and quickly became distracted by another pair of fighters, Tom rolled over on the floor, trying to push himself up. To his surprise, someone grabbed his arm and pulled him up. The big Indian was tossing Tom's arm over his shoulder, and grabbing him around the waist with the other hand.

"Come on," the guy dragged Tom out of the crowded corridor, and into the sleeping dens.

He gently laid Tom on a one of the piles of rags that served for beds, and began feeling his body for injuries.

"Shit, I might've cracked a rib or two…" the guy passed his hand over his mouth thoughtfully, looking upset with himself.

"I've had _so _much worse," Tom boasted.

"My father would be furious if he saw me," he said, helping Tom into a sitting position and handing him his water canteen.

"What, in bed with another man?" Tom laughed, drinking the lukewarm water.

"No, fighting for food rations. Speaking of which," he produced the food rations he'd won in the match, and handed some over to Tom. "No, my father…crotchety old bastard…was obsessed with tradition. As long as the Klingons let us keep our ways he didn't care whether we were free or not. When the farming lands got bought out by Cardassians, that was when…" he trailed off, looking bitter.

Tom, trying to lighten the mood, said, "My dad was a _real _hero. He took off to fight with the Terran Rebellion when I was eighteen, and he gave me and my sisters the choice of going with him, or staying behind and playing it safe. My sisters took off with him. Little goody two-shoes."

The other guy watched Tom sympathetically. "You heard anything from them?"

"Not in five years." Tom smiled. "I don't' mind. It's great to finally have some peace and quiet! Y'know, no nagging parents, no…"

The Indian was staring off with glazed eyes.

Tom did it on impulse. He said, "Hey," making the guy look back at him, and when he did, Tom hooked his hand behind the guy's neck and forced him down into a deep kiss. It was hilarious, because although the guy was clearly strong enough to pull Tom off if he wanted to, he didn't want to risk hurting Tom anymore by handling him harshly, and could do nothing but sit there and take it.

"Come on," Tom said in his ear, "Don't pretend you didn't like it."

Tom and Chakotay told each other their names, and a bit more about their pasts, as Tom pulled Chakotay down onto the cot with him, running his hands over his brown muscles greedily.

* * *

"Who was in my shop?!" Garak demanded, walking from one slave to another.

Tom was in the corridor that he always worked in. It was the middle of the morning. Chakotay in another part of the space station, in his work section. They only ever got to see each other at night. The Cardassian overseer was pacing from one slave to the next, staring menacingly into their eyes.

When Garak threw a particularly murderous glare at a slave named Jonas, the Terran stuttered, "D-Don't look at me! I ain't strong enough to break that window!"

Garak stared at Jonas, as if realizing his own stupidity, then snorted. "Well of course _you're_ not. But perhaps one of your queer lovers from the manual section is! Whose boyfriend broke into my shop last night and borrowed my tools? Was it yours? No? Maybe yours?…._Yours_? Hmm?"

Tom thought he'd have enough time to come up with a believable lie, but Garak reached him faster than he'd thought he would.

"Yours?"

The Cardassian's bulging eyes were right in Tom's face, his scaly hand clasping Tom's throat. Tom hoped his silence might be mistaken for simple fear. But Garak could see it. He'd know, after all. Two-hundred Cardassians on the space station, and Tom had to get the one homosexual, who knew how to read emotions better than any of the other male guards.

Garak whispered to Tom, "Fess up now, and you'll both have your lives spared. And you'll be rewarded of course. Or…" Garak drew his dagger from his belt and brought it up to Tom's ribs, poking through the fabric. Garak slowly began moving the knife's tip into Tom's flesh. When Tom felt a thing drop of blood run down his side he snapped.

"Chakotay!" Tom blurted out. "Manual section, 'bout six-foot, black hair, probably got a tattoo somewhere on his face of some Indian scribble or another, ya can't miss him!"

Garak's enraged face was now frozen, apparently shocked that Tom had blabbed so easily. The Cardassian's mouth finally crooked up into a smile, and he released Tom. "Very good." He gave Tom a curt nod. "I'll discuss your reward with the Overseer Kira. In the meantime, you may return to…" Garak had to think it over; he'd never rewarded a slave before. "…to work."

"Thanks," Tom muttered sarcastically, as Garak marched off.

About an hour later, when the Bajoran guards were escorting Tom to the Promenade to be auctioned off among Alliance noblewomen—his "reward"—they walked passed one of the Agony Booth chambers. As usual, Tom tried to ignore the screams as they passed the door (sounded like a young woman this time), and they neared the end of the hall, ready to turn the corner.

As they did, Chakotay came sliding across the hall from around that corner, as if he'd just been thrown, or—more likely—flung off of someone he was attacking. He pushed himself up, but before he could run, a Cardassian guard caught up to him and seized his arm. A second showed up and caught the other wrist, twisting Chakotay's arm behind his back and forcing him to the ground.

Tom stopped in his tracks, staring down at Chakotay. Under the black tangles, Tom could see a blue tribal design, something like a bird wing or a wind pattern. Interesting, to actually see the design Chakotay had been talking nonstop about all this time. Chakotay noticed someone standing nearby, and stopped struggling to look up. He looked half relieved and half heartbroken, to see Tom looking back at him.

"Chakotay," Tom breathed. "I'm, _I'm sorry_, I swear to god, I didn't have any….any…"

The apology came out sounding fast and defensive, rather that sympathetic. Had he only said the words "I'm sorry," and in a different tone of voice, Chakotay might not have guessed Tom had anything to do with his getting caught. As Tom stuttered his pathetic apology, Chakotay's expression turned hard. He tried to lunge at Tom, but the Cardassians stopped him. Tom felt a hard push on his back, and remembered his own Bajoran guards. Reluctantly Tom kept walking around the corner, and didn't look back.

* * *

"It was _his _fault." Tom insisted, more to himself than to the young man whose hair he was now stroking. "I warned him. I told him a million times,"

"Whatever you say." Harry replied flatly, shifting against Tom's bare chest.

Tom sighed. "Whadda ya want me to do Harry? Steal a ship, fly back to the space station, swing down from a cable and rescue my old boyfriend from the Agony Booth?"

"How about just being honest with yourself." Harry said. "You don't have to _blame_ yourself, but you can at least acknowledge that you feel guilty about it."

"Yes, Mother." Tom said rolling his eyes.

Harry looked away suddenly, as if he'd just remembered something important.

"Harry?"

Harry rolled over. He was lying between Tom and B'Elanna, in the middle of the bed. Tom had begun telling him about his life on Terok Nor earlier, and the conversation had continued on and off throughout the day. It had picked back up just a few minutes ago, after their Klingon mistress had fallen asleep.

Harry sat up, shaking his head. "Nothing I…gotta use the lavatory."

Careful not to wake B'Elanna, Harry crept over Tom's body and out of the bed with the art of a former street rat. Tom could tell Harry was up to something as he sealed himself in the loo, probably something involving his madcap escape plan. What he could possibly be doing on the toilet to advance his plans, Tom was too tired to think about.

* * *

As soon as Harry had the lavatory locked from the inside, he opened a metal cupboard and dug for a strong tool. He found the metal files that B'Elanna used to sharpen her teeth, in her attempt to appear more Klingon, and drew one of them out. The file in hand, he stepped into the sonic shower. The shower's walls were covered in black tiles, each sporting a different white Klingon symbol. Silently and skillfully, Harry used the file to pry opened a tile with a stylized image of a roaring targ. This was something of a makeshift safe that Harry had created for himself, in the first year after B'Elanna had purchased him. When he pealed the tile away, he could see the fist-sized hole he'd burned into the wall with one of the exotic weapons B'Elanna kept around the house. Out of the hole, he pulled a small PADD.

It was when Tom had said "mother" that Harry had remembered he needed to call in. Because, though he barely knew this woman, she was the closest thing he'd had to a mother, since his real one had died. He wouldn't admit that to anyone yet, since he'd never even met her in person yet. But with any luck, that would change tomorrow night.

Typing in a pass-phrase he'd made, Harry turned on a com system in the PADD, contacting the rebel captain. The image on the tiny screen was only a few inches long and wide, but he could clearly see Captain Janeway's face, and the brown cave walls of her hideout. Katheryn Janeway wore the rugged, earth-colored clothes of a Terran Rebel, most noticeably a weather-beaten black cargo jacket with small tools and weapons protruding from various pockets. Her brown hair was swept regally over her head, ending in a long braid that lay over her shoulder. Her pale face sported a few scars, the largest of which slashed across her left eye-socket. The eye itself was gone, covered with a black patch. The remaining eye, blue and intense, stared at Harry under a raised eyebrow.

"It's about time Harry," Janeway said without smiling. "I was beginning to worry you'd been caught."

Speaking barely above a whisper, Harry replied, "Well, in a manner of speaking. My mistress had a bad day, and decided she wanted both of us tonight. On the bright side, no Klingon pain sticks this time, though I think Tom's disappointed—"

Janeway scrunched up her face and her hand flew up. "Spare me!"

"Sorry," Harry shrugged. "I can be a bit of a chatterbox,"

"I can see that!" Janeway said, still looking disgusted. "Back to business. How's the escape plan coming?"

"Beautifully." Harry smiled. "I haven't quite roped Tom into it, but once he sees that it's actually possible, I'm sure he'll be game."

"Would—Tom was it?—would Tom be interested in joining my crew, or is he just planning on living as a stray after escaping?"

"Well uh," Harry hesitated. "I, I haven't told Tom yet. I mean, I've told him a bit about my escape plans. But he doesn't know about you. I mean, maybe he's _heard_ of you. But I haven't told him that the legendary Captain Janeway contacted me last week, and offered me a position in her crew of freedom fighters."

To be precise, a man who _worked_ for Janeway—a Vulcan—had beamed into B'Elanna's garden, when Harry was strolling there alone. The dark Vulcan hadn't told Harry his name, but he'd told Harry that he worked for the wanted Terran Rebel Captain Janeway. That Janeway was putting together a new crew, for a new ship, and was hiring Terran slaves, and anyone else who'd become alienated from the Alliance. The Vulcan had given Harry that PADD, instructed him on how to use it, and they'd arranged a time and date for Harry to contact and speak with Janeway. Harry had been talking to the Captain once a day ever since then.

"That's a good thing, Harry. However close you and Tom might be, we're still uncertain of his loyalties. If he doesn't want to join the fight, he might wind up betraying us to the Alliance."

Harry thought of the lover Tom had ratted out on Terok Nor. Tom's warning, about trying to maintain relationships in such harsh environments.

"I won't tell him anything until I know we can trust him." Harry said. "But I might need his help if I'm gonna get out of here and meet up with you. And he might not be the only one with me."

Janeway raised her eyebrows, tilting her head with interest.

Breathing deeply, Harry went on. "B'Elanna—my mistress—she's taking Tom and me to the Day of Honor Festival. There will be other slaves there, and a lot of them will be big, strong men and women who can fight, who I'm certain would want to be free. Who'd fight for freedom. I'm planning on organizing a little jail break." Harry smiled proudly, then quickly stopped. "That is, if you approve."

Janeway's lips slowly moved into a grin, and she chuckled. "I approve, Harry! Just remember, not to tell _anyone_, until I've decided we can trust them."

Harry allowed his own smile to return. "Yes Captain!"

"Alright now. Let's discuss how you're going to get a bunch of slaves out of a Klingon festival, and into my cell…"

* * *

**A/N: I have no clue what planet the "real" Chakotay is from, and the Internet wouldn't tell me. "Syrana IV" I literally made up, on the split-second, as I typed it. I hope it doesn't mean anything vulgar in any foreign languages. **

**Hope y'all like Janeway. If you're wondering why I gave her an eye-patch, it's because I once saw Kate Mulgrew on a silly Adult Swim show, playing a fierce agency leader who wore black clothes and a black eye patch. I can't tell you how awesome that was. Now, when I imagine Janeway in a mirror universe, as a pirate, or in any other reality, she always MUST have an eye patch. **


	4. Cock Fight

**A/N: A reader brought to my attention that in the Mirror Universe, Deep Space Nine is called Terok Nor. I've made the change for this chapter, and will soon make the corrections to the previously posted ones. Thanks for pointing that out, and apologizes for the blooper. **

**Chapter 4: Cock Fight**

* * *

Tom was drunk before they even arrived at the party. Bloodwine and Romulan ale had been available aboard the transport, and B'Elanna let him and Harry have as much as they wanted. The party was in an underground cavern, lit with a hundred candles, and decked with Klingon décor. The host was some old drama queen named Kor, who wouldn't shut up about his glorious, improbable adventures. Tom listened to Kor's absurd stories with a dazed, drunken smile; this pleased Kor, made him decide he liked Tom, and inspired him to order a round of fire wine for everyone. So Tom got drunker.

About half of the partygoers were Klingons, dressed in ceremonial garb. The other half was a medley of species—invited friends or dragged-along servants and slaves. Human and Vulcan waiters moved around, with bowls of worms and other odd dishes that Tom wasn't eager to try. The caverns echoed with banging, Klingon "music," which would've given Tom a horrible headache had he been sober. Tom enjoyed looking at his mistress, in her two-piece ceremonial Klingon outfit—a flowing black skirt with bright green banners covered in Klingon symbols, swinging with thin gold chains, and a similar top that left little to the imagination. He and Harry wore black slacks and V-neck tops, with some formal symbol-covered vests (Harry's bright green, Tom's blood red).

"So," B'Elanna folded her arms, and looked between Tom and Harry. "What do you boys wanna do first?"

"Well," Harry looked around. "Tom was telling me about something called, uh, 'Cock Fighting.'"

B'Elanna made a "ppfft!" sound through her lips, and began laughing almost to the point of suffocation. "I-I-I don't think you'd last a nanosecond!"

"I'm just talking about _watching_," Harry said diplomatically.

"Ooooh," B'Elanna gave Harry a long look. "So Tom and I aren't enough for you, huh?" It wasn't clear if she was joking or not.

While Harry stood there gaping at her, Kor came between them.

"B'Elanna! Daughter of Miral! Have I shown you my greatest prize yet?"

B'Elanna just stood there, arms swinging at her sides. "Male or female?"

Kor scoffed. "Your jests are too great, Daughter of Miral!" He put an arm around B'Elanna, who looked up at him dubiously (his other hand clumsily held a flask of alcohol). "I'm speaking of the ancient batleth that adorns my walls! The Sword of Kahles!"

"Right." B'Elanna sighed. "You own the Sword of Kahles. And Tom here's drinking out of Earth's own Holy Grail."

Kor's eyes widened, as if impressed. "The Holy Grail! Why, that's an amusing little trinket, to be certain! But come, come, take a look at the Sword of Kahles…!"

Uncertain how much of Kor's wild expressions and remarks were jokes, and how much were simply the babblings of a drunkard, Tom, Harry and B'Elanna followed their host to his trophy room.

* * *

Chakotay was relieved beyond measure to learn that his old master Kira Nerys wouldn't be at the festival, and by extent, neither would her henchman Garak. So far he hadn't found any familiar faces, and he wasn't sure if that was a relief or a disappointment. It was already humiliating, walking through the crowd with Seska gripping his arm, like he was some kind of child or invalid. The looks they were both getting from members of the opposite sex (and same sex) made him even more self-conscious. Seska was dressed in an un-modest red gown, made from a scaly leather that gave her an even more snakelike look than usual. Chakotay tried to adjust the folds of his black top for more modesty, then gave up.

Stadi, in a modest blue dress, tapped Seska on the shoulder. "Mistress…cock fighting?" She thumbed to a cavern tunnel, where the edge of a crowd was visible.

"In a little bit!" Seska assured her. "I want some of my friends to meet Chuckles."

Chakotay looked away from her quickly, biting his lip angrily. Stadi wasn't watching him, but she sensed it.

"Oh, look," the Betazoid maid said casually. "Kor's telling everyone about how he won that sword in battle. Wanna listen, Mistress?" Ignoring the warning glare from Seska, Stadi called, "Kor! We missed the beginning of your story! If you could start from the beginning for us, we'd be—"

Seska clamped a hand over Stadi's mouth and steered her and Chakotay away. "Cock fighting it is, c'mon."

Chakotay ran towards the ring as if pumped from a drug. The current fight had just finished, and the referee—a young black human with milky-white eyes—yelled, "Who's next?"

"I am!" Chakotay pushed through the crowd, undoing his shirt. "Outta my way."

"Chuck?" a familiar bearded face greeted Chakotay from the crowd.

"Will!"

Will Riker was covered in bruises and welts, and was in the middle of putting his shirt back on. But upon seeing Chakotay, he pulled it right back off. "Guess I'll go another round, for old time's sake!"

The young blind man who'd been refereeing called out, "Does someone else wanna take this round? Maybe someone who can actually _see _what's going on?"

"I'll do it Geordi," Stadi said, taking his place at the front of the ring.

Chakotay and Will caught up like old friends, as they circled and punched each other.

"How you been, Will?"

"Pissed off," Will said, arching his eyebrows apologetically. "So I'm going to say I'm sorry in advance," as he said this he actually got Chakotay in the forehead, leaving a cut.

"No worries." Chakotay gave his head a shake. "I was going to say the same to you." He glanced in Seska's direction, and saw her watching him with an unreadable expression.

His owner apparently grew bored of watching him in a friendly fight with an old pal, instead of viciously pummeling someone, and left the crowd to find more interesting venues. Chakotay sent a silent prayer to the spirits for letting his first round be with a friend.

* * *

"…which of us had slain the Andorian, none of us could say. So the four of us cut out his heart, together, squeezed its blue blood into a goblet, and drank from it together!" Kor surveyed his audience with wide eyes. "Now what do you think of that?"

B'Elanna muttered, "I think you talk too much."

Tom had already been nauseated from all the alcohol, and the punch line of Kor's story was the straw that broke the camel's back. He quickly ran from the small crowd that was listening to the story, and vomited into a potted plant.

"Oh, my," Kor eyed B'Elanna's slave with concern.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at his lover. B'Elanna didn't turn around, and just brought her pointer finger to her temple, rubbing irritably.

Tom weakly pushed himself up from the potted plant. He felt much better, now. From a nearby tunnel, he heard a female voice shout, "_We have a winner!_" followed by some human-sounding cheers. In his drunken state of mind, Tom couldn't think of any better thing to do after puking than to go a few rounds in a slave Cock Fight. Without even asking B'Elanna's permission, he leaped to his feet and charged into the tunnel, pushing and knocking his way through the crowd of humans and Vulcans.

"Okay!" the referee, an attractive woman with a Asian eyes and European freckles, addressed the crowd. "Who's next?"

Tom opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a loud belch that echoed through the caves. At least he got the referee's attention. Some other people looked over at him too. He couldn't see the other fighter behind the crowd yet, but assumed he had the guy or gal's attention as well. By now Tom's shirt was off, and he was swinging it over his head as he ran towards the ring, like an ancient movie star he'd admired as a boy (John Travolta), finally letting it fly off into the crowd. Tom jumped into the ring, pumped full of adrenaline, and found himself looking at the patiently-waiting, grinning face of Chakotay.

_Oh fuck._

* * *

"Harry, is that short for something? Harold?" Seska leaned in on her friend's slave.

Harry backed against B'Elanna, sandwiched between the half-Klingon and the Cardassian. "Erm, n-no, j-just Harry," he looked up at B'Elanna pleadingly.

"Seska," B'Elanna took Harry by the shoulders and turned him away from her friend. "You're scaring my play thi—"

"FOWL!" a woman screamed, from the nearby tunnel. "FOWL, FOWL—Help me here, someone!"

Harry, B'Elanna, and Seska's heads turned.

"Isn't that Stadi?" B'Elanna asked Seska.

"Stadi's refereeing," Seska nodded. "And my Chakotay's fighting."

"_Chakotay?!_" Harry exclaimed. "Oh god."

When the three of them reached the ring, Tom was on the ground, with his teeth in Chakotay's arm. Chakotay meanwhile was pounding Tom's head with his free fist. Tom's blue eyes were squinted into a vicious determination that Harry had never seen on him before. Chakotay's black eyes just looked glazed. Nearby, a woman in a long blue dress—Stadi, Harry guessed—was on the ground too, pushing herself up; one or both of the fighters had apparently knocked her down, when she'd tried to separate them.

A blind black human helped her up. "You okay Stadi?"

"I'll live Geordi," she said, brushing black hair out of her face. "These two, I'm less sure about."

Stadi and Geordi ran back to Chakotay and each took a hold of one arm, trying to pry him off Tom. Chakotay stopped pounding and looked back at Stadi, just for a moment. While he was distracted, B'Elanna dashed into the ring and kicked Chakotay in the face with her boot, sending him right out of Geordi and Stadi's grasp. A few spectators stepped back to let him land on his back, on the rock floor. Chakotay lay there, dazed, probably with a serious head injury. Even so, B'Elanna found in necessary to put one foot on his chest, holding him down, and drew her three-bladed dagger from her belt.

"You keep your hands _off _my Tom, Terran vermin!" B'Elanna snarled.

Seska marched out of the crowd. "_You_ keep your _foot_ off _my_ Terran!"

Not taking her foot off, B'Elanna looked sharply at Seska, her choppy dark hair flying. "Seska, you need to _control_ your goddamned pets! You wanna keep vicious animals like him," she pointed down with her dagger, "in your own home, fine. But if you're gonna bring them into _public_—"

"Vicious!" Chakotay was suddenly chuckling up at B'Elanna. "I can't wait to see what vicious way Tom comes up with to let you know, when he gets tired screwing of you!"

With a speed that shocked everyone, B'Elanna slashed Chakotay's face with the tip of her dagger's center blade. A red, hair-thin line was left, starting under his right eye, cutting across the top of his nose, and running through his tattoo. Then the blood thickened, and began to stream down his face. He looked away and shut up.

Seska barreled into B'Elanna, knocking her friend to the ground. They rolled around the floor, punching and biting and tugging each other's hair, while Seska struggled to pull the dagger from B'Elanna. Stadi and Geordi stepped back into the crowd, staring; a servant and a slave wouldn't dare interfere with the quarrel of a Klingon and a Cardassian.

Geordi accidently stepped back into a bearded man, and apologized. After having a few words with him, Geordi yelled, "Why didn't _you_ do anything, Will?"

Will looked at Tom, who was now sagging in Harry's arms, then back at Geordi.

"Because I know that guy, Geordi." Will said coldly. "If you knew what he did to Chakotay—_listened _towhat he'd done, all though that hallway on Terok Nor—you'd let Chuck have his revenge."

Tom was too exhausted, drunk, and physically hurt to give a verbal response, so he merely blew Will a short, slobbery raspberry.

Harry suddenly realized that now was the proverbial "opportune moment."

"Tom, come on." He pulled his friend up onto his feet.

Tom made a nose that sounded like a cross between a moan and an injured goat.

"Come _on_ Tom," Harry hissed, and pulled Tom away from the ring.

They hurried down the cavern hall, Harry now pulling Tom by the hand, Tom stumbling behind him. Harry eventually found a tiny sitting room, which was empty, save a very intoxicated couple clumsily making out on a sofa, in front of a crackling fireplace. Harry recognized the couple. It was a Bajoran woman named Celes Tal, who worked at the plant with B'Elanna, and her slave William Teffler. Teffler, like Tom, had no qualms about being a beautiful woman's boy-toy. The room reeked with drugs from various planets, and a device resembling a hookah sat on the sofa next to them. Without breaking off their kiss, Celes and Teffler glanced up at Tom and Harry, in a silent hello. Harry was glad to see that both pairs of eyes were glazed as doughnuts.

"Lady Celes!" Harry said quickly. "Is this the north-west sitting chamber?"

"Mmm…the one and only!" She replied, breaking her kiss from Teffler to start gnawing at his ear.

"Good!" Harry whispered. "This is the place! You're gonna meet her Tom!" Still holding Tom's hand, Harry pulled his drunken companion in front of the fire place. "Any minute now!" Harry took his communication PADD out from an inner pocket of his shirt, and began typing furiously, telling Captain Janeway that he and Tom were ready for pick-up.

Fast footsteps made Harry stop and look up.

Chakotay slammed into the doorway, clinging to the frame. His eyes were wild with excitement under the leaking cut across his face, his shirtless body heaving.

"Oh, bloody hell." Harry muttered.

Tom stumbled backwards, moving around the sofa and ducking behind it stupidly. Celes and Teffler glanced at Tom, then Harry, then Chakotay. The drugs made it difficult for them to register whether the sight of this psychotic, six-foot, blood-thirsty Indian in the door should be a good or bad thing. After a moment, William Teffler's face took on a nervous expression. Celes Tal on the other hand moved her large eyes up and down Chakotay's sweaty muscles, and grinned.

"Come _in_!" the Bajoran invited.

"Don't mind if I do!" Chakotay smiled, stepping slowly into the room.

Tom reached over the sofa with a shaking hand and grabbed the hookah by the chord, pulling it behind the sofa with him. As Chakotay approached, Tom held the hookah in front of him defensively, like a 20th century fire-extinguisher. Harry had no idea what Tom thought he was doing, and Tom probably didn't either.

"Don't worry Tom," Chakotay gave a wheezed chuckled. "I decided I'm not gonna kill you. I just wanna give you about the same amount of pain I got in the agony booth. Physical pain, that is. I don't imagine you're capable of the other kind."

Tal's mouth dropped opened, and she exchanged a look with Teffler. "Oooo, it's a lover's quarrel."

When Chakotay was inches away from Tom, Tom pressed something at the end of the hookah, shooting a purple cloud of Bajoran drugs into his face. Chakotay blinked. Then he brought one hand under the vase of the hookah, shoving it up into Tom's chin. Almost simultaneously, he sent his other fist into Tom's face, knocking him against the stone wall.

Harry, who was now facing Chakotay from the back, noticed more blood streaming down the back of the man's neck. He remembered how B'Elanna had kicked Chakotay to the rock floor, earlier. So this guy was enraged, had drugs blown in his face, and probably had brain damage. Great. Diplomacy didn't look promising at the moment. Harry searched the room for a weapon.

That was when Stadi came tearing into the room, her blue skirt flying behind her. She held something metal in her hand—an octagonal, Klingon frying pan—and swung it into the base of Chakotay's skull. Chakotay stumbled, then collapsed unconscious.

"GOT 'CHA!" Stadi yelled triumphantly.

"Shh!" Harry hissed.

Stadi spun and looked at Harry, confused.

Harry ran to the doorway. To his relief, there was a panel on the rock wall, for activating a door. He did so, shutting them in the room. "I need to lock the door! How do we lock it?"

William Teffler and Celes Tal giggled hysterically.

"He wants to lock the door!" William squeaked.

"Let's lock the door!" Celes burst up from the sofa and locked the door.

At least, Harry hoped she had locked it. In her current state of mind, who knew what commands she was actually entering into that panel?

Stadi watched Harry, then Tal and Teffler, and finally Tom and Chakotay. She was taking in all of their emotions, probably, trying to figure out what was going on.

It now occurred to Harry that there were six people in this room, and only two of them were sober. And Captain Janeway would be arriving any minute. Boy, this was not going to be a good first impression. Harry quickly brought up his PADD, still in his hand, and typed another message to Janeway, begging her to arrive as fast as she could.

"I'm sorry," Tom whispered suddenly.

He was leaning against the bottom of the sofa, cradling Chakotay's unconscious body in his arms. Stadi watched him, with a mixture of sympathy and nervousness. Harry guessed that the emotions she was sensing from Chakotay were not forgiving ones.

Celes let out a slow gasp. "That's sooo sweet!" she turned to Harry. "So!" Her brown eyes narrowed seductively. "What's your name?"

"Uh,"

The hum of a transporter cut through the air.

All (conscious) heads turned or looked up, to see three figures beaming into the room.

In the center stood Captain Janeway, armed with a phaser rifle slung over her shoulder. She was clad in a black cargo suit, covered in pockets and zippers, with a red leather jacket. Her hair was still done up in that regal braid. Her stare was even more piercing in person, as she surveyed the people in the room with her blue eye and black patch.

That Vulcan stood next to her—the one who'd approached Harry in B'Elanna's garden all that time ago. He was tall and black, with heavy-lidded eyes, sporting a thin black goatee, clearly inspired by the famous Mr. Spock. On the other side of the captain stood a white human man, with red-gold curls and an unshaven face, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Both men wore black cargo outfits similar to Janeway's.

"Captain!" Harry dipped his head in respect.

"Mr. Kim." It was so enthralling, to hear that low, husky voice in person. "At ease before you sprain something." Janeway looked at Celes, Teffler, Stadi, and finally to Tom and Chakotay. "Is this it?"

"Things didn't go according to plan." Harry said regretfully.

Celes Tal stared at Janeway. "I've seen you somewhere before."

Stadi stared, her black Betazoid eyes wide with disbelief. "Captain Janeway!"

"Is the Bajoran with us?" Janeway demanded, jerking her gun in Tal's direction.

"Well," Harry looked around. "No, not exactly. They were just kind of in the room."

Janeway fired. Celes's body light up, her skeleton glowed, and within a second her entire body had vaporized into thin air.

Harry stumbled back in shock. Tom looked up, his jaw dropped slightly. Stadi just stood there, still as a statue; no doubt she'd sensed Janeway's intentions seconds before she'd carried them out.

William Teffler wrinkled his nose, staring bug-eyed at the spot where his mistress had stood seconds earlier. "Holy shit!"

Janeway turned her gun to Teffler. "What about you? What's your allegiance?"

"Uh," Teffler searched his clouded mind for the correct response. "Stoned?"

Janeway stared at him, un-amused, but thankfully lowered her rifle. "I guess we can find something useful for you to do." She moved her gun to Tom and Chakotay. "And you two?"

"We're both with you!" Tom said quickly, tightening his hold on his unconscious ex-lover.

"As am I." Stadi said, holding her head high.

Janeway gave a curt nod. "All right then! Tuvok, Carrey,"

Her two guards pulled small devices out of their pockets, and slapped them onto the shoulders of Harry, Tom, Chakotay, Stadi and Tefller, pressing some buttons as they did. The four immediately began to vanish in a blue transporter hum. Janeway and her two men then activated their own transport devices, following them out of the sitting room.

* * *

**A/N: I like Celes Tal, and was kind of sorry to kill her so viciously. But it was necessary, to establish Janeway's character in the Mirror Universe. At least Tal died happy; she was stoned! **

**Cameos from other series: William Riker and Geordi LaForge, from "Next Generation." I don't believe that "Next Gen" ever had their own Mirror Universe story, and I am not taking any of the books or published short stories into account here. So "Next Gen" should be fair game. **

**Kor the drama queen Klingon is from the Deep Space Nine episode "The Sword of Kahless." (Which takes place in the "real" universe.) I didn't make his Mirror Universe counterpart much different, but, meh. **


	5. Captain Kathryn Janeway

**Chapter 5: Captain Kathryn Janeway**

* * *

Janeway and her men beamed Harry, Tom, Chakotay, Stadi, and William Teffler aboard a small shuttle, that sat hovering over Qo'noS. Once aboard, the captain herself took the helm, and piloted them away from the Klingon home world, full-throttle. Tuvok and Carrey immediately took stations of their own. The only other occupant, a pale-skinned Vulcan woman in brown clothes, addressed Tom and Chakotay with a medical kit.

Janeway, without taking her eyes off the window, made a graceful gesture towards the Vulcan woman. "Gentleman, lady, this is T'Pai, my medical officer."

Tom snickered, still drunk. "T'Pai…T'…_Apple_ Pai? Or T'Cherry Pie?"

The Vulcan stared at Tom. Then, in a soft voice, she replied, "You are comparing my name to a Terran dish. I _have_ tasted lemon pie, and enjoyed it. So, if you wish, I am T'Lemon Pie." She scanned Tom, and added, "And you, Sir, are intoxicated."

Chakotay groaned. He was lying on a mat on the floor, the closest thing the shuttle had to a bed. T'Pai had already healed the cut on his face. Stadi sat at her friends' side, cross-legged. He woke groggily at first, then shot up in a sitting position, taking in his surroundings. He gave only a passing glare to Tom; at the moment, he was more concerned about where he was than who he was angry at.

"Stadi, what's going on?" Chakotay asked the Betazoid.

"We're in a rebel shuttle." Stadi said calmly. "With the one and only Captain Janeway."

Chakotay stared at her, then twisted around to look at the woman at the helm. Janeway spun in her chair to face him, and spread her arms.

"Welcome aboard the—what's this bucket of bolts called again, Tuvok?"

The bearded Vulcan raised one eyebrow. "The name on the side of the craft was partially missing. However, I did make out the word 'Targ' on the hull, while we were commandeering it."

Janeway pursed her lips and nodded. "Guess it's just the Targ then. Welcome aboard the Targ, Mr…" she moved her hand in a questioning gesture.

Eyes darting, perplexed, he replied, "Chakotay."

"Cha-ko-tay," Janeway repeated. "Interesting name."

Chakotay almost stood up, but the Vulcan nurse urged him back down into a sitting position, to treat the frying-pan injury on the back of his head.

Harry cleared his throat. "You um, caught us all at a kind of weird time Captain," he laughed nervously.

"Did I." Janeway didn't sound terribly interested. She cocked her head at Chakotay. "What's that on your face?"

Chakotay felt his face for a moment, then realized she wasn't referring to any of his boxing injuries. "A tattoo. My father had it. And my grandfathers. I," he looked down. "I don't know its full meaning, to be honest. I wasn't terribly interested in my tribe's history until…" he trailed off, and eventually decided not to finish.

Janeway double-checked that she had the shuttle on autopilot, then left her seat. Everyone was a bit caught off guard when she walked right up to Chakotay and pushed up his tangled bangs, for a better look at his tattoo.

"Your owners let you decorate yourself?"

Chakotay was frozen for a moment, either with terror or awe. "No. They didn't _let _me." he sent a dark look Tom's way, then returned his gaze to the captain. "I just did it."

Janeway's eyebrows turned up, and though she still wasn't smiling, it became clear that she was impressed. "What did they do to you, when they found out?"

Chakotay's eyes were bouncing between Janeway's blue one, and her black patch. "The Overseer Kira sent me to the agony booth. They worked me over for a couple days, and then I woke up in the…_possession_ of a Cardassian woman named Seska Ctel."

Janeway was subconsciously moving her thumb and forefinger along the lines of Chakotay's tattoo.

Harry watched, thinking that, just for the moment, Captain Janeway was kind of weirding him out. More weird though was the fact that Chakotay _didn't _seem weirded-out. He just sat there staring up at her, like a pet being scratched behind the ears. Then again, he had been living as a Seska's consort for the last few weeks, so maybe this weird touching from a complete stranger just didn't faze him.

Janeway either summoned some self-control, or just decided that Chakotay's body art wasn't that interesting anymore, and took her hand away. She returned to her seat at the helm, but continued to face her guests, resting her hands on her crossed knees.

"So. What brings you all here? Harry, you've told me your story. Anyone else care to share why they want to join my crew?"

Chakotay, Tom, Stadi and Billy Teffler tried to hide their wide-eyed shock, when they realized what they were all apparently here for. Tom threw a look at Harry, who glanced away sheepishly.

Janeway stared at them inquisitively. "Cat got your tongues?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, uh, Captain, we've all got our reasons for wanting to escape from slavery. And I think I speak for everyone when I say we're excited to be here."

Chakotay looked like he couldn't believe his good fortune. Stadi and Tom on the other hand looked apprehensive.

Harry gestured to Chakotay. "See, Chakotay and Tom were in the middle of a disagreement. Stadi was forced to knock Chakotay out with a frying pan. We hadn't had the chance to explain this, uh, chance, to him…"

Janeway moved her head back, mouthing _Oooh. _"So when you," she looked at Tom, "told me you and Chakotay were both 'with me,' you were just…"

"Protecting him from being vaporized like that Bajoran gal." Tom folded his arms. "I guess even when I'm piss-scared of my boyfriends, I'm still a little protective."

Chakotay looked sharply at Tom, glaring suspiciously, as if he thought Tom might be making this up to get something from him.

Quietly, Stadi said, "He's telling the truth Chakotay. I can feel it right now, he cares for you. And anyway, I was there and I saw it."

Chakotay clenched his fists, then shot up from the mat. "I don't need your sympathy." It wasn't clear who exactly he was talking to. He stormed to the back room (which was little more than a storage closet) and out of sight, no doubt to brood for a while.

Janeway just stared, raising her eyebrows again, then muttered, "I don't mind a reasonable amount of drama." She stood up again, and began pacing around the shuttle. "So we've got an eager cat-burglar," she gestured to Harry, "A born rebel, and a man who'll lie to protect someone who's just tried to kill him."

"Well he wasn't trying to kill me," Tom said modestly. "Just bash my brains out."

Janeway turned to Billy and Stadi. "And how about you two? What are your names? Species and capabilities are also appreciated."

Stadi and Billy, both sitting on the floor, looked at each other.

"Stadi. Betazoid." The maid shrugged. "I can cook, clean, I've piloted a few vessels here and there, and I can sense people's intentions."

"B-Billy Teffler." Teffler's lip quivered as he struggled to come up with an equally impressive response.

"Can you hold a phaser, Mr. Teffler?" Janeway offered, trying to give him ideas.

His enormous eyes turned downward, darting around in a way that reminded Harry of characters from the puppet shows people performed on the streets of Turkana IV. Janeway pulled a little phaser from her belt, startling Billy. She pulled Billy's arm up and placed the phaser in his hand, then let go. Billy quivered a little more, unsure what the captain wanted him to do. After a moment, Janeway smiled, for the first time since she'd met the group in that sitting room.

"You _can_ hold a phaser!" Janeway gently took the weapon back and replaced it on her belt. "If you need to learn how to shoot and aim, well, I guess we can work that out in due time." She gave Billy a kind pat on the back, then returned to the helm.

"What's the name of your ship, captain?" Stadi asked.

Janeway smiled. "Voyager. She's an Intrepid class—"

Tuvok interrupted. "My apologies Captain, but I must correct you on that statement. You currently possess no ship. The Voyager is still, as Jadzia Dax put it, 'up for grabs.'"

Janeway shrugged. "You're right, Mr. Tuvok." She turned back to her new crewmembers. "_I_ apologize. I'm embarrassed to say that I have no ship yet. But I'm hoping you all can help make sure that we grab it before anybody else does."

"Are we gonna commandeer it?" Harry asked eagerly.

"No, Mr. Kim. We're going to bargain for it."

* * *

**A/N: Captain Janeway the creeper…Kathryn has no self-control in this universe! **

**T'Pai is the Vulcan nurse seen in "Caretaker," who was killed along with all of the other medical staff when Voyager was pulled into the Delta Quadrant. **


	6. The Incredible Dr Zimmerman

**Chapter 6: The Incredible Dr. Zimmerman**

* * *

When B'Elanna ran out of tables to overturn and trinkets to smash, she began kicking at the doors of her bedroom. Of course, the doors being made from black steel, this did more damage to her foot than anything. She didn't care.

The night before, several people had vanished from Kor's party without a trace, and two of them had been B'Elanna's beloved play things. She hadn't ever gone out of her way to be "nice" to Tom and Harry, and she certainly knew how adamant Harry was on escaping her grasp. But somehow, she'd become so used to having Harry around, that she'd thought that some part of him did want to stay with her. And Tom, he'd been enthusiastic to play with her since day one. She hadn't realized just how much she'd enjoyed being with Tom until now.

Seska's man was gone as well, and so was her maid Stadi. And Celes Tal, a Bajoran woman who worked with B'Elanna at the engineering plant, had vanished, along with one of her male servants.

The silver lining was that their host, Kor, wasn't angry with them for ruining his party. On the contrary, as soon as it became clear that people were missing, Kor had pulled the "Sword of Kahles" off of his wall, declared it time for a hunting party, and enthusiastically led several Klingons and a few Cardassians and Bajorans on a wild goose chase through the caverns. Seska and B'Elanna, still enraged with each other, had reluctantly followed, wanting to know what had happened to their consorts. The chase had lasted until daybreak, and ended when Kor took a swing with his batleth at a mounted targ head on the wall, got it stuck, and struggled with it until he finally passed out drunk. After that, B'Elanna and Seska had given each other one last punch and slap in the face respectively, and went home.

It was almost noon now. B'Elanna fell back onto her bed, heaving. She pulled her tall boot off of the foot she'd been kicking the door with, peeled off the sock, and examined her bloodied toes. Her big toe nail had a crack clean through. While she sat on the bed, healing her foot with a dermal regenerator, the hum of a transporter cut through the air. She looked up, and saw Seska standing in her room, wearing her long white night dress, looking exhausted and irritable. This wasn't the first time her friend had barged into her home without knocking, so B'Elanna wasn't too taken by surprise.

"Come to apologize?" B'Elanna snarled. "Or to ask for one?"

"Both." Seska's long lips tightened, and she swallowed. "I couldn't sleep last night. I dreamed I killed you, in that cave. And then I spent the rest of the dream feeling so guilty, so alone." Seska hugged herself, looking out the window. "When I woke up half an hour ago, I was getting breakfast from Stadi's apprentice, who somehow managed to ruin Cardassian riding hound eggs. And Chakotay wasn't there lying beside me, or waiting in a corner with a pointed object to try and kill me. I miss him, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna's face was hard, but her eyes turned up to her friend, with sympathy. B'Elanna couldn't quite relate to Seska's longing to have her consort try to kill her again, but she _did_ understand the loneliness.

"I just wish I knew where he was." Seska finished. "And Stadi too. But mostly him."

B'Elanna sighed, finishing up on her foot. "An old shuttle craft vanished from a shipyard in this city last night, not long before the people at Kor's party went missing. And one of those people isn't missing anymore either."

Seska's eyes widened, waiting for the bad news.

"About two hours ago, I got a call from the plant. The investigators found evidence in one of Kor's sitting rooms of an energy weapon, a vaporizing blast. And Celes Tal's DNA was retrieved from the forensics team. She's dead, Seska. Either someone killed her to steal our play things, or Harry finally made good on his plans to escape."

"But where would they get an energy weapon?" Seska took a seat next to B'Elanna on the bed.

"I think someone brought it to them. That shuttle that went missing _before_ Kor's party had even started, so Harry and Tom and the others didn't just steal it after escaping. I'll bet it was Terran Rebels, looking for new recruits."

Seska thought this over. "They faked it…that whole fight! My Chakotay pummeling your Tom, I'll bet it was all an act! A diversion, to get you, and me, and everyone else angry at each other, and while we were fighting, they murdered Celes and took off!"

B'Elanna was surprised she hadn't thought of this earlier. And now she felt like a fool. Fool, nothing; she felt like a Tarkillian _ass_. And she said so.

"I'm a Tarkillian ass. We're both asses. For trusting those..._sneaky_ little _targ shits_, over each other!"

"B'Elanna I'm sorry!" Seska threw her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly.

No Klingons were watching, so B'Elanna allowed her Human sentiments to break free, and hugged her back. "Me too, Seska."

After breaking apart, Seska asked, "So what do we do?"

B'Elanna gave it some thought. "The same thing we were planning to do, Seska. We find that son of a bitch Dr. Zimmerman."

"And make him tell us how to get our boys back from the Rebels!"

B'Elanna stared at Seska. B'Elanna was cut, sure, to have lost her concubines. But they were long gone. Sometimes slaves ran away. These things happened. B'Elanna doubted whether all or any of them would even survive a firefight with the Alliance, or a fist fight with each other. But she didn't want to destroy the new excitement her friend had found, so B'Elanna just nodded, and said "Yeah."

* * *

Captain Janeway's rebel cell currently dwelled in an asteroid, floating along one of the moons of the anarchic planet Turkana IV. Tom, Harry, Chakotay, Billy, and Stadi spent the first morning getting to know their new crewmates, practicing their aim with phasers, and brushing up on whatever skills they could offer. Everything was in short supply, including clothing, so the newcomers were left, for the most part, with wearing what they'd had on their backs when Janeway had shanghaied them. Some shirts were salvaged though for Tom and Chakotay, who had been half naked for their fighting match when they'd been beamed aboard the _Targ._

Tom and Chakotay had a confrontation, around mid-morning. Harry heard their raised voices echoing from a small tunnel.

"…I saved your life Chakotay!"

"When you were surrounded by allies—"

"None of whom were armed!"

"You just had to tell a quick lie."

"To a madwoman who might vaporize me later on! I told her to her face that I'd lied to her to protect you, in that shuttle! Where the _hell_ do you get off?!"

"Janeway seemed in a good enough mood when you chose to tell her that. You remember what _I_ did for you, on Terek Nor? All those times I came between you and the people you'd pissed off, and came out so pummeled I couldn't talk right? You remember when I offered _myself_ up to those four Cardassians when they had you backed into a corner? I spent the whole night with them, just taking it."

"And _I_ spent the whole night awake, thinking about it." Tom folded his arms. "Those times you got beat up for me, I remember mushing up your food rations so I could spoon feed them to you. I remember staying up entire nights to stand guard over you while you were hurt, to make sure no one killed you for your food or clothes, or _otherwise_ took advantage of—"

"And how many people actually threatened my safety, while I was asleep Tom? How many people did you have to take beatings from to keep away from me? Before that _one_ Cardassian who you blabbed to?" Chakotay was giving Tom a stare-down. "You're such a hero, when the odds are in your favor!"

"_You're_ brave!" Tom scoffed. "You _started _half those fights over my 'safety.' Oh yeah, it was chivalrous of you to defend my honor. But I don't know, hitting guys twice your size guard for calling me names…if I didn't know any better I'd say you were _looking_ for excuses to maul someone! But I still played the grateful damsel and nursed you back to health every time..."

"You're right," Chakotay's voice rose dangerously. "I _do _look for excuses to maul someone, when someone's putting me in the right _mind_ to!"

"Oh what, you wanna kick someone's ass? Wish granted!" Tom threw his arms up, gesturing around the tunnel. "We're rebel soldiers now! You're an honest-to-god warrior! You can scalp as many Cardassians and Baj—"

Chakotay finally threw the punch Harry had been waiting for. Tom stumbled backwards out of the tunnel, into the main room where people were working, and grabbed a consol, just stopping himself from falling to the ground. As Chakotay was turning to leave, Tom scooped up a rock and chucked it at the back of his head. Chakotay whirled around and charged at Tom.

Phaser fire cut through the air between them, making Chakotay practically skid to a halt in his tracks. Bits of rock were blasted a few inches off the ground.

Captain Janeway stepped in from another tunnel, a tiny phaser in one hand. "_Gentleman!_" she glared at them both. "_That. Will. Do_." She lowered her weapon. "Now I don't know if your masters let you have these playground fights, but it's not happening here. I will not have _my_ crew be reduced to a band of childish _thugs_ like that pirate Ben Sisko!" Janeway shook her head slowly. "Fighting over a lover's quarrel…while your comrades are working to free the Terran Empire from slavery. We are _freedom fighters_, not wild dogs!"

The stare from Janeway's blue eye had both men shrinking sheepishly. Tom looked away awkwardly, and Chakotay bowed his head. Janeway surveyed the entire room, staring each rebel in the eye at least once, as if to make sure she'd driven her point home to everyone. She sheathed her phaser and turned, as if to leave. Then suddenly she whirled back around and slapped Chakotay across the face, leaving him frozen in shock. Then she struck Tom with the back of the same hand. Then, satisfied, she left.

* * *

B'Elanna and Seska began by looking at a map of Dr. Zimmerman's apparent trajectory through the quadrant. They sat in a small shuttle that Seska owned, which was currently on autopilot. The two women stood at a small, hexagonal consol, which displayed a three-dimensional star chart, in a translucent hologram. Red dots marked where Zimmerman's holograms had been sighted, and a large blue dot marked the last spot the real Zimmerman had been seen.

"What some bounty hunters have done is try to follow the trail of his holograms," Seska mused. "But the problem with that is, Zimmerman doesn't just leave his holograms _behind_ him. He sends them out in shuttles, aboard starships, in all different directions. So what we need to do is plot his course _between_ it all."

"To do that, we'd have to know which directions those starships and shuttles were traveling in when Zimmerman's holograms were found aboard, and how long they'd been traveling, so we can mark a starting point for each." B'Elanna said.

They poured over the databases, and made contact via the small viewscreen with the various authorities and bounty hunters who'd encountered Zimmerman's holograms. It took half the day, but they finally had a course plotted. Zimmerman, it seemed, was headed out of the Alpha Quadrant. The farthest they could track any sightings of him or his holograms was a colony at the very most outreaches of the Alpha Quadrant, where an Andorian mercenary had purchased medical supplies from a bald Terran calling himself "Louie." It was an anarchic colony, like Turkana IV, a place where Zimmerman could probably live and work undisturbed by local law (because there _was _none). The odds he was still there were slim, but it would be the best place to find some leads.

The journey would have taken weeks, maybe months, but luckily a colleague of Seska's was able to recommend a wormhole that could cut their journey by almost two-thirds. Within days, they were landing at a docking bay on the harsh, unnamed moon of a ringed gas giant. B'Elanna and Seska stepped out of their shuttle wearing long hooded robes, sheltering them from the burning sun as well as un-gentlemanly gazes. Beneath their billowing, earth-colored robes, B'Elanna wore her two-piece Klingon armor, and Seska a black body suit, both covered from head to toe in weapons and scanning equipment.

"This was too easy." Seska surveyed the colony suspiciously. "Bounty hunters and authorities have been tracking after Zimmerman for months, but you and me find him in a matter of days?"

"We haven't found him yet." B'Elanna reminded her. "And as for that course we put together, well, you and I just have a better network of contacts to talk to than most people."

"You mean _I _have a better network of contacts. Because _I'm_ a whorish nymphomaniac who has a thing for sleeping with my superiors. And their friends. And their friends' friends."

B'Elanna tilted her head. "I wasn't going to say that, but yeah. Pretty much."

* * *

They spent much of the rest of the day asking around for information. "Asking around," here, often having the meaning of, pretending to seduce men or women with empty promises, to get some information; threatening them with knives or phasers to get a little more; and finally breaking a few fingers to get the rest. They tried some combination of the above on more people than they could count. Late into the night, their journey finally took them to a small, filthy restaurant/bar, called _Amarie's._ Or maybe everyone just called that because the owner was named Amarie; the building had no sign.

Amarie was humanoid, sort of. She was tall, with a blockish build, and had a bumpy face that B'Elanna thought looked like the offspring of a Terran warthog and a Cardassian swamp lizard. She was crowned with an unruly jungle of black fuzz which could only be called "hair" because of the position it occupied at the top of her head. Her shockingly bright pink garments clashed oddly with the grimy, smoky setting of the bar, and its customers. Most unusual (but not unheard of for a species) was the fact that Amarie had four arms, and was putting all twenty fingers to work at a complex piano in the corner of her bar.

The bar itself was tiny, filthy, and had only four visible customers: two Terrans and a Ferangi, who were gambling at a card table, and an Andorian who sat passed out in a chair with a half-empty bottle of ale in his lap.

Amarie looked up when B'Elanna and Seska entered, still playing her song. "More lesbians! Oh boy!" she laughed hardily, as if she'd made a joke.

"That's the nicest thing anyone here's called us so far." B'Elanna folded her arms.

"Let me guess," Amarie bellowed, "You pair of love birds want a table, right?"

"Service would be nice." B'Elanna answered. "But we're mainly here for information."

"Oooh! I can help with that! Amarie knows everyone on this colony. Have a seat." Amarie took one hand away from the piano and slapped a small table next to her. When she took the hand away, she saw it was covered with black-brown grime, and grimaced. "D'oh…Here, I'll just have it cleaned off for you two ladies!" Amarie leaned back and practically screamed, "_Horn-rat! Get'cher ass over here!_"

A girl who appeared to be only six or seven hurried over, with a cleaning rag. The child's red-gold hair was bound up in a messy bun and covered with a piece of scrap fabric. Her clothes were filthy and filled with holes, and her face was speckled with bruises and welts. She looked human, except for a row of small curved horns running down her forehead—a Ktarian trait. The girl looked around timidly, then began cleaning the table closest to where she was standing, but not the one Amarie had smacked.

"_No_!" Amarie hollered into the girl's face. "_This one_!" She pounded the table again, and the girl hurried over.

Seska and B'Elanna both watched with unmoved faces. B'Elanna felt a stirring in her chest, watching the child rub frantically at the table like her life depended on it. But this girl was getting as good or better treatment than most Terran children in the Alliance. You _had_ to be tough on Terrans, because they were naturally so much weaker than Klingons or Cardassians. It was the only way to prepare them for the harshness of the universe. At least that was what B'Elanna's own mother had said to her growing up, after she disciplined B'Elanna.

Amarie chuckled at her two customers, and said loudly enough for the girl to hear, "Little retard's not worth the table scraps I feed her. But some Ktarian businessman's sending me a case of latinum every three months to keep her alive. So," she shrugged.

B'Elanna and Seska took a seat, and both looked back at the child. She had taken refuge under another table, wiping underneath with her rag, while singing softly to herself in Ktarian.

Amarie, still under the impression that B'Elanna and Seska were homosexuals, summoned an Orion waitress, whose green body was covered with almost nothing but some black scraps of net. B'Elanna had to admit, this green woman was quite sexy. But even straight women enjoyed admiring each other's bodies, and B'Elanna didn't have time at the moment to dissect her feelings. She and Seska ordered some Romulan ale, which tasted like it had been watered down with tribble piss, and got started interrogating Amarie.

"So! What information can I help you two dykes with?" Their host clasped two hands together, while the other two continued at the piano.

Seska folded her hands under her chin. "Dr. Lewis Zimmerman."

The three gamblers glanced up from their game at the mention of Zimmerman's name, then returned their attention to their cards.

Amarie swayed to her own music, pretending to think it over. "Dr…Lewis Cinnamon?"

"_Zimmerman_." B'Elanna said through clenched teeth. "Terran. Light skin. 'Bout forty. Bald, except for some brown hair on the sides of his face. Wide nose and lips, brown eyes."

"Scientist." Seska added. "Works with holograms. Ring any bells?"

Amarie arched her hideous head up to the ceiling. "I seen a bald Terran…fits _your_ description." She pointed at B'Elanna with both right hands. "He was here a few months back. He asked me for directions to the Beta Quadrant. Haven't seen him since."

"How much is Zimmerman paying you to feed bounty hunters that story?" B'Elanna asked.

"He didn't pay _me_ for the last bloodwine he ordered." Amarie snorted.

"Bloodwine?" B'Elanna said. "That's funny Miss Amarie. Because I happen to know that Dr. Zimmerman was diabetic, and never _touched_ alcohol of any kind."

"Really? Hmm. Guess he had a death wish."

"Know something else, B'Elanna?" Seska asked. "Just a rare, little-known fact. When a Kossinian has all four pinky's twitching slightly, that's a sign of mental stress. One of the most common ways to tell if they're lying. One of my psychologist friends told me that, anyway."

Amarie immediately clenched all four fists.

B'Elanna found herself glancing at the child again. The girl was still crouched under the other table, staring at Amarie with wide eyes. B'Elanna left her seat and came up behind Amarie, drawing her three-bladed dagger.

"Y'know why I think you like to pick on your little cabin girl here?" B'Elanna jerked her head in the child's direction. "Cuz you've got no power on this rock." B'Elanna lowered the knife to Amarie's upper-right hand, and forced the fist opened. "Now you're gonna answer my questions again, correctly this time, or I'll start chopping off fingers."

Seska drew a phaser, and took a position between B'Elanna and the table of gamblers, in case any of the card players had ideas about interfering with B'Elanna's interrogation.

Amarie swallowed. "Actually…" she suddenly brought one of her left hands back down onto the piano, and quickly played a bizarre series of notes.

The moment she did, a holographic hum cut through the air. B'Elanna, Seska, and the child looked up, and saw Dr. Zimmerman materializing, standing on the table the three gamblers were sitting at. Well, not the _real_ Dr. Zimmerman of course; it was one of his holograms. He looked just as Zimmerman had in most of the professional pictures B'Elanna had seen of him, back when he worked for the Alliance, even dressed in that white lab coat and brown professional slacks. But this hologram had one thing the doctor never had in any of those photos; a phaser rifle. The female Ferangi and her two human companions stared up at the hologram, not daring to move.

"Holographic energy weapons," the doctor took aim at B'Elanna. "…are as good as the real thing, when you get rid of those pesky safety protocols!"

B'Elanna brought her knife under Amarie's chin and pulled the four-armed bartender in front of her, barring her sharpened teeth at the hologram.

"Hmm," the hologram pursed his lips. "I should've anticipated a hostage situation. Sorry Amarie. Perhaps the good doctor should have left you with a _few _body guards, instead of just me. Trust old Lewis to be a cheapskate. But fortunately," he took aim at Seska. "I've have been programmed to improvise!"

Seska almost aimed her phaser back at the hologram, but stopped, remembering that he was, well, a hologram. She slowly began to lower her phaser, as if in surrender. Then, suddenly, she pressed the trigger and vaporized the table that the hologram was standing on! The hologram's eyes bulged as he collapsed to the floor, clinging to his holographic rifle. The three gamblers stumbled out of their chairs and backed away.

The next five minutes were a firefight between Seska and the hologram. The Cardassian ducked and dove under and behind tables and the counter, while the hologram shot at her. The Ferangi and the two humans from the gambling table busied themselves with raiding Amarie's cash register behind the counter, while the drunk Andorian rose from his snooze and began helping himself to the alcohol in the back. B'Elanna and Amarie rolled around on the floor, B'Elanna threatening her with the dagger, while Amarie struggled to throw the half-Klingon off her back.

"Where's Dr. Zimmerman?!" B'Elanna demanded.

Amarie hollered something obviously rude in a language B'Elanna didn't speak.

Seska dodged another phaser blast from the hologram, ducking back behind the counter. The Ferangi and her human friends were splitting up the money from the chrome cash register, arguing over shares. Seska interrupted their debate by seizing the cash register, and hauling it over the counter at the hologram. Not surprisingly, it soared right through his chest with a holographic hum.

"Sticks and stone, Madame." The hologram took aim again.

As the chaos continued, the little girl emerged from the table, and curiously approached the piano. She looked like she'd discovered a giant toy that she'd never been allowed to play with. With a sharp memory inherited by her Ktarian father, the girl recalled the notes Amarie had played to summon the hologram. She punched the keys with her pointer fingers, apparently having never played a piano before, but knowing exactly which keys to press. The moment she did, the hologram vanished. Seska stared at the child over the counter, surprised by the help, and said, "Thanks!"

The girl looked up at Seska, as if she'd never heard this phrase before.

B'Elanna and Amarie, still on the floor, looked over at her.

"Normally," Seska said with mocking kindness, "When someone says 'thanks,' you're supposed to say, 'you're welcome.'"

"Oh." The child blinked.

"Hey! Kid!" B'Elanna barked. "What else can that thing do?"

The girl looked at the floor. "Open a door."

"To where?"

The girl shrugged.

"Do you know how to open the door? Do it!"

The girl was not startled by B'Elanna's shouting. Calmly, she turned back to the piano, and played a slightly longer set of notes.

The floor opened up right underneath B'Elanna and Amarie.

They went tumbling down a metal tube, like the slides of a child's jungle gym. The little girl peered over the opening, watching them fall, but didn't say anything, and didn't follow them.

The tunnel dipped and turned like a roller coaster. B'Elanna forced Amarie under her like a mattress, preparing for a landing. She heard Seska calling her name, and then the sounds of the Cardassian tumbling after them, having leapt into the tunnel. As it turned out, B'Elanna wasn't able to make sure she landed on top of Amarie, and didn't have to anyway; the tunnel deposited them on a soft bouncy floor. They were in a small round room, with almost blinding white walls. The floor was padded with a sea of old cushions, mattresses and mats, from various alien cultures. It was cold in here. And B'Elanna and Seska's robes were tattered from the fight so badly that both women tossed them off. Seska now sat in their black jumpsuit, and B'Elanna in two-piece armor.

B'Elanna brought her dagger back up to Amarie. "Is Zimmerman hiding in here?"

The four-armed alien nodded reluctantly.

"Show us!"

"I don't know _where_ in here. I just sold him the use of these underground tunnels. He never let me see what he was—"

B'Elanna jabbed her dagger closer to Amarie.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

The alien looked to be on the verge of hysterics, and B'Elanna gave up. She and Seska looked around the room, searching for a door. None was visible. They began trudging through the cushions, scanning the white walls with their tricorders.

"We're in some kind of underground cave," B'Elanna mused. "These walls and lighting here are all holographic."

"Ha!" Seska said suddenly, sticking her arm through the white wall in one area. "The oldest trick in the book! The wall's holographic here!"

B'Elanna and Seska both ran through. Amarie lingered behind, unarmed, and took a seat on the cushions.

B'Elanna and Seska emerged in a hallway, with a flat white ceiling, floor and walls, and found themselves facing…Zimmerman?

"Greetings visitors!" The hologram said cheerfully. "You're very clever to have found Lewis Zimmerman's hideaway. Unfortunately, the doctor is not in."

Seska and B'Elanna both had their tricorders out, and exchanged glances. It wasn't the doctor, just another hologram.

"Where is he?" Seksa asked the hologram.

The hologram shrugged. "How should I know? I'm just a hologram. Nobody tells me anything."

"Computer," B'Elanna tried. "Locate Dr. Zimmerman."

It turned out that there _was_ a computer in here—one with Zimmerman's voice. "_Please specify which Dr. Zimmerman_," tThe computer answered, in an insufferably cheerful tone.

"The real one!" B'Elanna hissed.

"_What is real_?" the computer asked. "_How do you define 'real'? If 'real' is just what you can see, touch, taste, than the Zimmerman standing before you may perfectly well be a real Dr. Zimmerman…" _

"He has a point!" the hologram smiled.

B'Elanna snarled, and slashed her dagger through the hologram's throat. The hologram, naturally, wasn't affected. B'Elanna shoved past him, Seska close behind her, and they stormed down the hall.

"How rude!" the hologram commented, as they left it behind for good.

The hall ended in a door, which wouldn't open. They tried commanding the computer to open the doors, and were answered with, "Which doors?"

"ANY DOORS!" B'Elanna shouted.

"Very well. A lavatory door in a castle in the Gamma Quadrant has now been opened. Are you happy?"

Seska scanned the door with her tricorder. "B'Elanna, this door...isn't a door."

"You're kidding me!" B'Elanna threw up her arms. "Are we in some kind of mad house?!"

"Here!" Seska found a spot in the wall with her tricorder. "Come on!"

Both women ran through the holographic wall, and came into yet another white hallway.

"I'm not picking up any life signs so far, B'Elanna," Seska warned.

"Well obviously he's masked them somehow!" B'Elanna spat. "I'm going to check for Terran DNA, or any organic material, come to think of it."

"Good idea."

The two women continued through the maze of corridors and false walls and doors, running into another annoying Zimmerman hologram here and there.

"Ah, we have company!" One "Zimmerman" said, looking up from the PADD he was working on. "Would you like some entertainment?"

"What's that?" Seska snatched the PADD from the hologram and examined it closely.

B'Elanna looked over Seska's shoulder. On the screen of the PADD was written a short message, first in Cardassian, and then in Klingon underneath: WHO FANCIES A GAME OF HIDE AND SEEK?

B'Elanna grabbed the PADD from Seska and hurled it to the sterile floor, causing it to break in a small cloud of smoke and sparks.

"We could've analyzed that," Seska said angrily. "It might have given us some clues!"

B'Elanna was already marching away, to a fork in the hallway. She chose right, and smacked into an invisible rock wall, which had been holographically designed to appear like a long hallway. Seska ran to make sure B'Elanna was okay. She didn't have any visible injuries; Klingons had strong foreheads like Cardassians.

"Aaaalways look before you leap!" the hologram advised.

Neither Seska nor B'Elanna looked back at him. They turned carefully down the other hallway, holding their tricorders out before them, to check for any more false hallways.

"Trying to make sure you aren't _fooled_ again?" Another hologram stepped out from another corner, dressed in a white, poofy, pom-pom covered clown costume and hat.

Seska muttered, "This old fart has way too much time on his hands."

B'Elanna sighed, as they neared another fork in the hall. "Whatever he's been working on for the rebels, it must be big, for him to have put so much effort into this damned fun house just to hide it."

As they turned the corner, a Zimmerman working at another PADD commended, "Secret projects for the Rebels…"

Another further down the hall, sipping coffee, said, "…giant rat mazes…"

The women turned another corner, and found two more Zimmermans, at a little table playing chess. "…I'm two for two!" they holograms finished in unison.

Not surprisingly, B'Elanna turned the table over, sending holographic chess pieces flying. She and Seska tromped over the upside-down table.

"Such violent outbursts!" one of the Zimmermans said.

"I believe that was a checkmate," said the other.

"Here!" Seska said suddenly. "I'm reading something organic…and it's got Terran DNA!" she rushed towards another false wall.

They stepped through, and found themselves in a painting studio, from Earth's 16th century. False sunlight streamed in from tall glass windows, depicting the English country side. They were in a round castle tower. Five or six Zimmermans sat at easels around the cluttered room, dressed in Renaissance garb.

"Shhh!" one of them brought his paint brush to his lips. "Class is still in motion!"

"Are you students?" Asked the nude model, who was posing in the center of the room like a Greek statue. It was—unfortunately—another Zimmerman. "Or are you just here to observe?"

B'Elanna refused to allow herself to be frightened or disturbed by the sight, and returned attention to her tricorder. "My readings are getting stronger, Seska. This way!"

Seska had been eying the nude Zimmerman with interest. B'Elanna grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her along. "_Come on!_"

She led Seska to one of the windows, which it turned out, was a solid hologram, not a false wall. But the readings of Terran DNA were coming from right behind it. B'Elanna found the hatch on the window and pulled it opened. The sunny farmland remained on the glass as if it were an image on a viewscreen that was attached to a door. And behind that "door" was a large room. A dark, cavernous room, cluttered with tools and PADDs and study desks. B'Elanna and Seska leapt through the window/door and began searching the study. Zimmerman was in here, the tricorder said so. But it was dark; the only light came from the doorway leading to that painting studio. The study reeked of a thousand odors B'Elanna didn't want to identify. Alien insects scattered as they moved through the room. Zimmerman must've been mad to be working in a place as rotten as this. But then again, that whole maze proved that he probably _was_ mad.

"Look!" Seska pointed.

Over against the far wall was a high-backed computer chair, facing away from them. In the shadows on the wall, they could see the shape of a human man, hunched over. B'Elanna and Seska put away their tricorders and took out their phasers.

As they inched closer, B'Elanna realized that there was a good chance it wasn't Zimmerman. It was probably a stuffed dummy, or another hologram, with a bit of his DNA stuffed inside of it, to fool their tricorders. If so, she just wanted to find out for sure and get it over with. She strode past Seska, grabbed the chair, and turned it around.

Inside the chair was skeleton, with just some hints of flesh and hair still clinging to parts of the skull and bones. Tattered remains of a white lab coat and other clothes clung to the body. The eyes and facial features were long gone. A few insects crawled around the body and on the chair, munching at the fabric and rotted flesh.

"No," B'Elanna whispered, as Seska pulled her tricorder back out.

"It's him." Seska said scanning the body. "Here's our Dr. Zimmerman."

"No! No it's, it's another hologram! It's a trick, he faked his own death…"

"I'm getting all the readings of a Terran cadaver. He's been dead for approximately a year. He died from a combination of radiation poisoning, diabetic complications, and alcohol poisoning." Seska's eyes traveled to a bottle of alien liquor, now empty, that sat on the desk before Zimmerman's corpse. "I guess he figured his time was up, and decided he had nothing more to lose."

B'Elanna sank almost to the ground (but stopped short of actually sitting or kneeling on the filthy floor).

"Well," Seska shrugged. "The bounty _was _'dead or alive,' so it's no difference to us…"

It _was_ a difference to B'Elanna. Because in some way—and she wasn't certain how—Zimmerman had won.

* * *

**Amarie is from a "Next Generation" episode called "Unification." I didn't know her name or the episode she appeared in until looking it up. I just recalled a funny alien woman with four arms, talking to Commander Riker, and decided to give her a cameo in my story. I assume the "real" Amarie is a kind woman, and would never abuse a child. But I thought she'd make a good villainess. Naomi and Amarie's parts in this chapter came to me while I was listening to the song "Castle on a Cloud," from the musical "Le Mis." **

**Apologies once more for the anti-gay slurs. I put it in there because this is an evil universe, where characters are all assholes to each other.  
**

**Seven of Nine and Kes will probably have to wait another couple of chapters before making their appearances. I'm really looking forward to writing both of their intros! You *will* get to know Tuvok a bit, in the next chapter. **


	7. The Bargain

**A/N: I do not own "Star Trek: Voyager," "Deep Space Nine," or "The Next Generation." **

**Chapter 7: The Bargain**

* * *

After Captain Janeway made her point to Tom and Chakotay, the two men avoided each other. Tom usually tried to pretend Chakotay wasn't even there. Instead, he spend most conversations complaining about their new rough lifestyle to Harry, when he thought Janeway's back was turned; and making romantic moves on Stadi, when he thought _Harry's _back was turned.

Over that next few days Janeway gained a handful of newcomers, from all over of the quadrant. Everyone was mix-matched into working groups to get to know each other, and Janeway made sure her main staff got to know everyone. They finally got to meet Janeway's second-in-command, who'd been away rallying up new recruits around the sector. The man's gray shoulder-length hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in at least a day.

"John Cavit," the man said, shaking Chakotay's hand. "I'm Janeway's number-one."

"Good to meet you." Chakotay said politely. "I'm Chakotay."

Cavit seemed like nice guy. And that was what was putting Chakotay off, a bit. He wasn't used to being properly introduced to someone and shaking their hands. He was used to getting to know people as he slaved away beside them, sparred with them in a fighting ring, or took oddly intimate touches from a new mistress or captain.

"You met the other staff, yet?" Still shaking Chakotay's hand, Cavit turned his wide blue eyes to the other rebel leaders, working with the newcomers. "Tuvok there's the tactical expert. Carrey's our head engineer. T'Pai's our doctor—well, technically she failed medical school, but she's the closet we got—the position of head helmsman's up for grabs, and I think Amelia Jenkins might be a lesbian."

Chakotay stared at Cavit, who was still shaking his hand, almost frantically.

"You seem a bit jumpy, John." Chakotay said gently, wrenching his hand out of Cavit's.

Cavit nodded and shrugged. "That's one way to put it."

"How do you mean?"

"I have radiation psychosis." Cavit spoke as if he were reporting the weather. "From a nebula I passed through a few months ago, when I was on a solo mission." He tapped his own temple meaningfully.

After pondering how to respond, Chakotay said, "I can relate more than you realize."

He immediately wished he hadn't brought his own problems up. Chakotay had never spoken to anyone about his "family curse," and now wasn't the time he wanted to start. To his relief, Cavit seemed more interested in discussing his own issues.

"T'Pai's still working on a treatment." Cavit said. "She tried repairing my brain the old-fashioned way a few weeks ago, but slipped up just a bit and made things worse. Not her fault. We all make mistakes. Anyway, Captain Janeway says I'm a lot more enthusiastic in battle now."

"…I'll bet."

"Always good to have the element of surprise!" Cavit whispered, finishing with an enthused wink.

Chakotay gave a long nod. "Yes..."

Janeway stepped up next to them. "I'm going to have Dr. Zimmerman give Mr. Cavit a look, along with a few other people in this cell. Just as soon as we can _find_ a Dr. Zimmerman."

"_A_ Dr. Zimmerman?" Chakotay looked between Janeway and Cavit. "Who—or what—is a Dr. Zimmerman?"

"Long story." Janeway said, and left it at that.

* * *

Stadi, meanwhile, was getting to know another Betazoid, as they worked on loading phaser rifles.

"Lon." The tiny man said, his enormous black eyes fixed on his work. "L-Lon Suder."

Stadi did her best not to stare, seeing how shy he was. "I'm not sensing any emotions from you, Lon. Can I call you Lon?"

Suder's soft voice was made more vulnerable-sounding by his rural accent. "I can't sense my emotions either. I've got," he closed his eyes for a moment. "…issues. They locked me up, on Betazoid. I got out, but they came after me. Klingons I mean. I got away from Betazoid but got into trouble with some Klingons. Janeway saved me. So, so I agreed ta help her out. Even though I'm a Betaziod. Kind of."

Stadi decided, eventually, that she liked Lon Suder. But overall, she was starting to worry about this crew. She was sensing a lot of unstable minds aboard this asteroid.

* * *

That night, Janeway and Tuvok beamed down to Turkana IV, to do some more business related to Voyager. They met with the Trill woman, Jadzia Dax, in a dimly lit cantina.

Dax was the mistress of the (in)famous rebel Captain Sisko. Sisko himself had been missing for some time, believed by many to be dead. He'd turned up briefly several months ago, when he announced his death to be an "exaggeration," and helped the Rebels gain another victory against the Alliance. Shortly after that though, Sisko had disappeared again. There were rumors that he hadn't been the "real" Sisko, but some kind of impostor. Janeway hadn't seen any of that, so she didn't have a strong opinion.

Dax had a piercing stare, made more catlike by the choppy dark hair that fell over her face, just barely covering one eye. Of course, her forehead and neck were lined with the famous Trill spots. With her was another one of Sisko's rebels, a scruffy long-haired man named Julian Bashir.

"Hello again, Captain." Dax sounded slightly amused.

"Hello…Can I call you Jadzia?" Janeway replied, taking a seat across from Dax. "Actually, I sort of want to call you 'Jade.' Unless you'd prefer we keep things professional."

Dax smiled coyly. "I'm fine with Jade…any time other than tonight. When you competitor arrives, I think we'll all want to keep things professional."

Janeway nodded. "Of course."

Tuvok stroked his goatee thoughtfully.

"Hi Tuvok." Dax smiled at the Vulcan.

"Hello, Jadzia." Tuvok said to his old friend.

Tuvok had served briefly with Captain Sisko's rebel cell, and was old friends with Jadzia. He'd left shortly after Captain Sisko had disappeared for the second time. That was when he'd met Janeway, and become her security officer.

Bashir elbowed Jadzia, and jerked his head towards the bar's doorway. Two figures were walking towards them. One was a young Terran man, pale and lanky with unruly brown hair, and a smug grin that made Janeway want to sock him in the jaw. With him was an honest-to-god Gorn, staring at Janeway as if she'd already made a threat at him. Clearly, these were her "competitors"—people from the other crew, that wanted to bid for the starship Voyager. They looked almost more like pirates than Rebels. Both wore necklaces with teeth and bones from various alien creatures, as well as arm braces and decorative weapons belts. The human wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles, and knee-high boots under a short skirt of metallic blue squares. His getup made Janeway think of her kilt-wearing Celtic ancestors.

When her competitors finally reached the table, Janeway realized three things. First of all, this Gorn was female—something that became apparent when the creature's bulbous green breasts housed in a metal bra nearly gave Janeway a concussion, as the Gorn awkwardly moved into a chair. Second, the young Terran was _extremely_ young, possibly still in his teens. And finally, the young Terran's face looked familiar. He looked like a woman Janeway had met a few times, a doctor who served with the Rebel Captain Picard.

"Are you related to Beverly Crusher?" Janeway asked.

The boy smirked at her. "My mother."

Janeway exchanged a glance with Tuvok, who raised an eyebrow.

"Captain Janeway," Dax said, "Meet Captain Wesley Crusher."

"Captain?" Janeway cocked her head at the boy. "I didn't realize the Rebellion was captaining members so quickly."

"They're not." Wesley Crusher leaned back in his chair. "I'm not with your rebellion. My mother tried to raise me to be a good little soldier, but," he shrugged, looking around innocently. "I'm a genius! My IQ is absurdly above normal! Why should I squander my potential by getting myself killed in some futile rebellion, when I could make something of myself!"

Janeway sized Wesley up. The boy wasn't dressed like any sort of businessman or scientist. He looked like a pirate. "You're a mercenary." She said finally.

"One of the best." Wesley grinned, and his Gorn assistant growled in agreement.

"Approximately how long have you been a mercenary?" Tuvok inquired.

Wesley's smile vanished, and he chewed his lip. The Gorn made a response, that to Janeway sounded like nothing but gurgles and snorts. Tuvok, however, spoke Gorn.

"Two months." Tuvok popped one eyebrow. "Not unimpressive, given Captain Crusher's age."

Whether Wesley's face was turning red with embarrassment or rage, Janeway wasn't sure, but hell was she enjoying it. She tried to keep a straight face though, not wanting to come off as a childish bully to Dax.

Dax finally broke the awkward silence. "We're here to discuss the Voyager."

Dax reached into a pocket on her dark blue jumpsuit, and took out a small metal device. She set the device on the table, and activated it. A tiny hologram of the Voyager appeared, floating above the table. Janeway, Tuvok, Wesley, and the Gorn forgot about each other for a moment, and fixed their eyes on the ship. Voyager was built in the style of the Terran Imperial ships, from the days when Captain Kirk was raiding words aboard the Enterprise. But Voyager's model was somewhat sleeker and elongated. Massive phaser cannons protruded from the top half of Voyager's disc.

"So." Dax folded her arms on the table. "The Voyager, the Voyager. It was built by the rebellion, meant to be an interstellar battle ship, with the ability to land on planets. Powered by organic gel packs, equipped with photon and chronotronic torpedoes, and even an emergency medical hologram made by the famed Dr. Zimmerman…blah blah blah, you all know the details by now."

"If it's such a great ship," Wesley said, "Why's it up for sale?"

"Because the captain who commissioned it is dead." Dax said simply. "Well, maybe not dead. But captured, or missing, at least. The ship wound up in my possession, through a series of events that really aren't important."

Bashir wrinkled his nose momentarily, looking irritated.

"But you're with the Rebellion," Janeway said. "So why even consider giving Voyager to these mercenaries, over me?"

Dax looked around in mock guilt. "Because Captain Janeway, the truth its…I was never completely with the rebellion. I was only with Captain Sisko. And since he's…gone…I've got other priorities."

"Anything I can help you with?" Janeway offered.

Dax's smile widened. "Well that's where the payment comes in."

Wesley propped one elbow on the table. "I'll give you two-million credits for it."

Dax threw the boy a look, as if he'd just offered her a stick of chewing gum. Her blue eyes drifted around the table. "I'm about to make a little confession. You see, my name not withstanding…I'm not really a Dax. Not yet. I spent the first six years of my life in an orphanage on Trill, until Kurzon Dax adopted me. I took his name, since I thought of him as family. He was like a father to me. And he promised me that when he died…he wanted me to be the next host for the Dax symbiont."

Janeway's eye widened, as she realized what Dax was asking them to do.

"Kurzon stayed politically neutral in the war between the Alliance and the Rebellion, but I couldn't. I ran off to play pirates with Benjamin, and Kurzon stayed behind living the quiet life. We stayed in touch, and he stayed true to his word, that I would get Dax after his death. But his death came so suddenly…a hovercraft bomb meant for some politician or another went off, and Kurzon was standing too close. Dax is being kept in a chamber for symbionts, in the Trill capital. The beurocratic bastards in charge won't let me have Dax, because of my involvement in the Rebellion. The leaders will make the final decision in four days, as to whom they'll give Dax to. You all have until then to get me that symbiont. I'd do it myself, but I doubt the rest of Benjamin's crew would want to help me give Voyager away in exchange for a slug."

Tuvok eyed Dax curiously. "Why not simply hire either Captain Crusher or Captain Janeway to help you? Why make a competition of it?"

"Because you both responded to my offer, and I couldn't decide who'd be better for the job. So I figured, what the hell, let them both do it. Get the job done faster anyway." Dax shrugged.

"Makes sense," Janeway admitted.

"It's more fun this way anyway." Wesley said, looking threateningly at Janeway.

"It's good to know we agree on _something_." Janeway replied.

* * *

Harry Kim was just settling down to sleep when Janeway and Tuvok returned to the asteroid, and called the entire crew over for a meeting. All fifty-something rebels sat around the central chamber, perched on boulders, standing around, or leaning against the wall. Harry and Tom placed themselves on a rocky balcony that jetted out from one of the upper-story rooms. Down below, Harry could see Chakotay standing against the wall, next to Stadi.

Janeway summed up the meeting she and Tuvok had just had, with "Lt. Dax," (whoever that was), and what they had to do to get a hold of the warship Voyager.

"Naturally, Dax wants a payment." Janeway put her gloved hands on her hips.

Tom folded his arms, and let one leg dangle out over the ledge. "What kind of payment could possibly make this Dax guy want to give up a slick ship like Voyager?"

Harry was terrified that Janeway would shoot Tom for speaking out of turn. But to his relief, she just glanced up at him with an amused look.

"What price indeed, Mr. Paris." Janeway scanned her crew. "What's Dax willing to give us Voyager for? Immortality. You see, Jadzia Dax…is a Trill."

Many eyes widened, and whispered erupted around the room.

Stadi cleared her throat. "Captain, are we going to steal a Symbiont?!"

"Exactly, Miss Stadi."

Chakotay looked thoughtful, like he wasn't sure how he felt about this. Harry saw him glance over at Commander Cavit, as if Chakotay was wondering why Janeway's first officer was being so quiet. Cavit was watching Janeway intently, while absentmindedly chewing on a lock of his own gray hair.

T'Pai spoke up. "How are we to transport this entire crew to the Trill home world, to steal this symbiont, with the few small ships and shuttles we have?"

"We won't all be going." Janeway bowed her head. "I'm afraid most of you will have to miss out on the fun."

At least half the room looked beyond relieved that they'd be "missing out" on this insane mission.

"I'm going to put together a team." Janeway said. "It'll be a little covert operation. We'll sneak in and swipe the symbiont. Then we'll sneak back out and give it to Dax. And we'll fly back here in Voyager to pick up the rest of you. So." The captain clapped her hands together. "Who wants to help Tuvok and I steal a symbiont?"

Cavit's quickly raised his hand.

Janeway rubbed her chin. "I thought I might leave you in command here John, but now I think of it…you're always good to have in a fight."

"So am I!" Chakotay bellowed suddenly. "I'm going too!" He suddenly shrank back. "If you'll permit it."

Janeway smiled at Chakotay. "Permission granted."

"Hey," Harry piped up, "I can pick locks."

Tom shot Harry a look, and hissed, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I wanna go!" Harry said, not trying to lower his voice.

"Well I don't want you to go!" Tom grabbed Harry's shoulder.

Tom's blue eyes bored into Harry's black ones.

"You won't last a micron out there Harry," Tom whispered.

"Then you'll just have to come and protect me." Harry smiled.

Tom's head rolled back, and his eyes rolled up.

"Well," Janeway pursed her lips. "While you two finish setting up your next date, does anyone else—"

"Me! I'll go!" Tom threw his hands up. "I'm…I'm all right in a fight. I can hold a phaser."

"You'll need a medical officer." T'Pai stepped forward from the crowd.

"And an empath." Stadi said coming up next to her. "I can let you know if anyone starts to catch on, that we're there."

Joe Carry nodded up to Harry. "Even with that professional burglar, you'll still want your best engineer to help break into that complex. I'm in."

Lon Suder—that creepy little Betazoid who barely spoke—stepped up from the crowd and shyly raised his hand, not even meeting Janeway's eye.

Janeway ticked the team members off on her black-gloved fingers. "Cavit, Tuvok, Chakotay, Paris, Kim, Carrey, Stadi, T'Pai, Suder…" she shrugged. "Looks good so far. Maybe a couple more for back up. Anyone else?"

Harry saw William Teffler lower himself into the sea of people, trying to stay out of sight. Janeway took notice, but said nothing. Had any other captain done that, Harry would have thought they had no faith in William. But he'd gotten to know Janeway. She was saving Billy; she was planning to turn him into a right soldier, and she wasn't going to waste him right now.

Two other rebels volunteered to join. The small group then gathered in another, smaller room of the asteroid, to discuss the plan.

"…once Joe and Harry have disabled the alarm system, someone will have to get inside and take out the guards before any of them can alert their authorities, or fire any shots that might draw attention."

Tom "pffted." "You'd need some kind of super soldier to pull off a stunt like that!"

Janeway looked at her tactical officer. "Tuvok? Do you think you can manage that?"

Tuvok looked downward, as he often did when pondering a response. "Though I am a skilled fighter, it is unlikely that I could overpower six guards simultaneously."

Heads began to dip or turn away, but Tuvok continued.

"However…the _other _Tuvok would have no trouble."

Harry looked around, to see if anyone else was lost. The only people who didn't look confused were Janeway, Cavit, T'Pai, and Joe Carrey.

Stadi stared at the Vulcan. "The 'other' Tuvok?"

Chakotay's expression changed, his lips parting, as if he was catching on.

Tuvok looked at Janeway. "Perhaps they should be informed, Captain."

Janeway shrugged. "Go right ahead."

Tuvok didn't meet anyone's eyes. "In the forty-one years I spent as a slave for the Alliance, I came to require…excessive meditation, to purge my violent urges, and maintain my rational. What I ultimately achieved was a complete separation of my analytical, rational self, and the part of my mind that contains stronger, more aggressive emotions."

Tom stared at Tuvok. "You're saying you have a split personality?"

"Precisely."

Harry breathed out a little sigh, and whispered, "Split personality." He and Tom looked at each other. "The Vulcan's got a split personality."

And Commander Cavit had radiation poisoning. And Lon Suder was pretty obviously not holding on to all of his marbles, either.

And these were just the people who Harry had gotten to know in the last few days.

* * *

**A/N: Cavit is another guest star from "Caretaker." He was Janeway's original first officer, who was killed and replaced with Chakotay. In the "real" universe, Cavit was tragically born without a personality. I made up his craziness on the spot, while writing his introduction here. **

**On Dax and Tuvok: This story must take place after the DS9 episode "Through the Looking Glass." In that episode, we see Mirror Tuvok (beardless) in Sisko's rebel cell. Jadzia is Sisko's mistress. It's unclear whether she is joined with the Dax symbiont or not. However, in other Mirror Universe episodes, she is called "Dax" and doesn't question it. **

**I made up the back-story for Jadzia and her relationship to Kurzon and the Dax symbiont. I also made up the part about Sisko commissioning the construction of Voyager. **

**So…you're all probably wondering the same question I keep asking myself: HOW LONG until goddamn Kes and Seven of Nine show up?! Hopefully, in the next couple of chapters. I want them in the story ASAP! **


End file.
